


Order Of The Dragon

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brandon Stark, Knight Commander of the Order of the Dragon, will he get what he wants and prevent the kingdoms from falling or will he die in the attempt?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wild Wolf

 

**4 th Month of 282 **

 

**Knight Commander Brandon Stark**

 

Riverrun was alive with music and joy, the wedding had gone according to plan. There was some part of Brandon had not approved of having to marry within the sept of Riverrun. He understood well enough why it needed to be done, to ensure there were no raised eyebrows and yet there was a part of him that protested at doing such a thing. To him it seemed wrong, so very wrong, and yet he had gritted his teeth and gotten on with it. After all Catelyn had looked completely stunning in her elaborate dress with her hair done up in an intricate southern braid, Brandon had felt something within him quicken then. He had said the words as had she and when they had kissed, it was as if something of a fire had lit within him. Even now there was a feeling within him that he merely wanted to move on with the feast and get straight to the bedding. His wife sat beside him, and if the way her hands were moving under the table on his leg were any indication she felt the same. He grinned into his cup before lowering it to speak with his goodfather.

 

“I hope you do not mind that my father could not attend the wedding, Hoster. He had business that he needed to attend to within Winterfell and the north.” Brandon says.

 

His goodfather, Lord Hoster, a knight general of the order nods. “Of course it is of no worry son. Your father is an important man and a busy one at that. We shall be meeting on the journey to Winterfell of course.”

 

“You are certain you wish to come?” Brandon asks. “One would have thought with how things are looking with the Blackwoods and the Brackens that you might wish to remain here to ensure the prince has no allies within to use?”

 

He takes his wife’s hand then just as she goes to move upward toward his manhood, she is clearly drunk, but he cannot allow her to do as she wishes, not just yet. No there is business to discuss. Her father merely laughs and says. “Blackwood and Bracken are two hot headed idiots that much is true. But they are not mad enough to even consider beginning something whilst I am away. The last time they tried, the order destroyed their lands and left them to ruin. No, they will remain quiet, and the Prince will not dare to do anything.”

 

Brandon nods. “Of course my lord. Still the Prince has been known to be make moves that some might consider questionable. After all, the man does spend time in Summerhall all on his own, and he has not been seen within King’s Landing or Dragonstone for some time.”

 

His goodfather looks at him for a moment and then says. “The Prince is a man of many talents, and his closeness toward Tywin Lannister is somewhat worrying and yet they are of course members of the brotherhood, to betray the brotherhood would be to break those vows we all hold dear. And I am not sure if such a thing is within the man’s nature.”

 

“Harrenhal seemed like it was well enough. That whole whispering beforehand was very much within the man’s nature. I do not doubt that had Myles not told His Grace, the prince, fool that he is would have gone on to do something that we would have all had cause to regret. Thank the gods old and new that that did not come to occur.” Brandon replies.

 

“The wisdom of the king is to thank for that. It was a rare moment for him to show such strength against his fools at court and come to Harrenhal. No doubt there would have been something or the other that would have tried to stop him from coming but he came.” His goodfather concedes.

 

“More than he has done since Duskendale at least. That is another concern of mine, do we know any more about that damned place since it fell, or has Rykker been keeping things wrapped up to prevent a lack of trade?” Brandon asks, as Knight Commander he was privy to some of the goings on of the order, but not all.

 

Lord Hoster as a Knight General however, is privy to almost all, the only person who would know more is Brandon’s own father who as Lord Seneschal co-ordinates such activities. “I believe Rykker has done his duty and has allowed us to search for such hints that might be left behind in that accursed town. But alas nothing solid has been found. Other than the fact that there might be more to Serala of Myr than we originally thought.”

 

That gets his interest. “And what might this be? I did always think it odd that Darklyn wed someone from Myr considering the most trade was done with Lys.”

 

There is a long silence and then his goodfather says. “She might well have deeper roots than we first thought. Something about her stinks of the old blood, but not of the purest sort. Something of taint might well have been within it, and it might well have been that which drove her toward doing as she did.”

 

Shock hits Brandon then, as the implication of his goodfather’s words sinks in. “You mean to say she might well have been what the king was searching for all these years, and yet none of his attempts were successful. Why did she not come forward when she had the chance to become Queen? Or even when Lord Steffon was searching for a bride for the Prince, surely that chance would have been too tempting for anyone with a mind?”

 

“Unless, there was some other plot that they had. Who knows what went on during those years under Tywin, all that is for certain now is that something went on within Duskendale and it is not completely what it appears to be. Nor is what happened to the king since, what it appears to be.”  His goodfather replies.

 

Brandon runs a hand through his stubble then and muses. “This could well have some far reaching problems should it prove to be true.” Before he can go on, he hears a shout go up and looks to see Robert Baratheon, the Lord of Storm’s End is pushing at Ned drunkenly and his brother seems most put out by this. Brandon feels his jaw tighten then, he does not like the young lord of Storm’s End and considers him nothing but trouble, yet Ned seems to like him, something Brandon just cannot understand.

 

“It seems Lord Robert has had much to drink, is this a regular occurrence?” Lord Hoster asks.

 

Brandon sighs then and says. “I believe so. I do not know my lord. But I do not think that he would do well within the order, he would only bring shame upon us and the king.”

 

Hoster merely nods and then asks. “And what of your brother, would he make for a good member? A knight squire perhaps?”

 

Brandon looks at his brother and thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “I do not think so. There is too much he needs to learn and the influence of Jon Arryn is something that I am not sure we can truly remove.”

 

“You will not know unless you try Knight Commander.” Ser Brynden Tully says.

 

“Ah but I have tried, and all I get is the words that that fool Jon Arryn taught my brother parroted back at me. Even my own Lord father is not willing to press beyond the bounds with Ned. No we must remain low for now.” Brandon replies.

 

There is a moment’s silence and then his new wife turns to him and her voice clear despite the wine she has drunk and the flush on her cheeks asks. “Where is Lya Brandon? I did not see her during the wedding, nor have I seen her during the feast. Is she not coming?”

 

The worry that has been nagging at Brandon for some time since the wedding comes back with a fury then. Taking a deep breath he says softly, well aware of his goodfather and his wife’s uncle listening intently. “I believe that she was prevented from leaving for some reason or another. She was supposed to be here by the feast, but I know she shall be here no later than two days’ time. She wants to spend some time with us before her own wedding.”

 

His wife nods and when she looks at him, he sees such heat in her eyes that he wishes he could merely have her right here and now. It takes him a lot of effort not to do just that, and once he has forced the lust to lessen somewhat, he smiles and kisses his wife quickly on the lips before turning back to his goodfather. He can see the grin on his goodfather’s face, and before Brandon can say anything, a rather drunken Robert Baratheon stands up and shouts. “We’ve had enough food and wine to feed a gods damned dragon. On with the bedding!” as the cry is taken up by many others, Brandon looks at his wife, who’s cheeks are flushed and smiles. Soon enough he is being lifted up into the air as rude remarks are made and Brandon gives back as good as he gets, and before he knows it he is being deposited into the room he is to share with his wife for the night, stripped down naked. His wife is wearing nothing but a shift herself, being the daughter of a Knight General sparing her some modesty. Brandon looks at her and says. “You are well my lady?”

 

“I am my lord. Are you?” his wife responds shyly.

 

Brandon moves toward her and takes her into his arms. “Brandon, my name is Brandon. We are to be married I would like it if you called me by my name.”

 

His wife looks up at him then and says. “Then call me Catelyn, Brandon.” His wife giggles then and Brandon smiles.

 

“Well then Catelyn, I believe we have one piece of clothing that still needs to be removed do we not?” he asks.

 

She looks down and then back up at him, and then she asks. “What do you want me to do Brandon?”

 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice hoarse from want. When his wife nods, he smiles and then guides her into lifting her arms up so that he can remove her shift, once the shift is off, he finds himself looking at her body. Her breasts are firm, and her skin is pale, he finds himself hardening at desire shoots through him. He is no maiden, far from it, but this, this is something new. He moves to her then and kisses her, pressing his lips to her softly. And then when she moans when he moves away, he presses his lips to her more firmly, and then she is kissing him back and their tongues begin to move against one another, fighting for dominance. He pulls away and begins moving down her body, from her mouth to her neck and then down her stomach until he is kneeling down before her clit. He looks at her and when she gives a breathless moan he moves forward. He begins by kissing the curls and then moving down and kissing and sucking on her clit. She groans aloud and grabs his hair, and he grins, his mouth is wet with her, and when he moves up to kiss her once more, he can feel himself pressing against her belly.  He looks at her briefly then and asks. “May I?”

 

“Please.” She all but groans and he grins, he lifts her and places her on the bed and then he takes his manhood and just as he is about to put it inside her wetness, she stops and leans up and before he knows what she is doing, her mouth is on his cock, sucking on it and gods that feels good, so very good. He feels himself coming close, so very close, and so he gently eases out of her and then she lies down and he puts himself inside of her. By her gasp he knows Baelish’s words were lies, she gasps and gods she is tight, so very tight.

 

It does not take long, but gods does it feel good. He spills inside of her and by the gods is it good. So very good. he moves to the side then, and he turns then and kisses her softly. “I did not hurt you did I?” he asks.

 

“A little, but it was a good ache.” She replies sweetly.

 

He kisses her once more and then taking her into his arms his chin resting on her head they fall asleep. It is an easy sleep this, and Brandon is grateful for it, there is much and more that has been plaguing him of late. But not tonight, tonight is the night where he knows he can sleep easy, and in the arms of his wife he does so. He wakes early that morning, Catelyn is still fast asleep, and the sun is just rising when he manages to move from his wife, he washes his face and then puts on some clothes and heads out of the room, making sure his wife is still asleep. He finds his way to Lord Hoster’s solar easily enough, and finds the Lord and his brother there discussing something fervently. They stop when he enters and he asks. “What is it? Has there been word from Winterfell? Or from the king?”

 

The Lord of Riverrun looks at him somewhat worriedly then. “Neither. Word came from a reliable source within the riverlands, and it seems your sister has been sighted Knight Commander.”

 

“Sighted? What do you mean sighted?” he asks.

 

“It seems the Lady Lyanna was at an inn with some of her companions, when the prince and his retinue entered the inn. It did not take long but Prince Rhaegar it seems has absconded with Lady Lyanna.” The lord says.

 

Immediately, Brandon feels anger boiling within him. “Are you certain it was my sister?”

 

“I am, my sources recognised her well enough.” The man replies.

 

Brandon looks at the lord then and feels anger rising within him. It is something that drives him to a deep fury, the thought of his sister with the prince, with that traitor. He saw how the man looked at his sister at Harrenhal, it makes sense the idiot would so something such as this. He turns round then and heads for the door. Pausing he says. “I must go.”

 

“Go?” Lord Hoster asks surprised. “Where will you go?”

 

“To King’s Landing. The King will know what to do.” Brandon says.

 

“Are you sure that is wise?” his goodfather asks. “How do we know that the prince has not gone to King’s Landing himself.”

 

Brandon snorts. “It is partially because of that that I wish to go. But the dragon will know what to do, he always does.” Before his goodfather can respond he is out of the room and heading toward where he knows Ethan is sleeping. He bangs on the door and when his squire opens the door, he is not surprised to see the man already changed and awake, Ethan is an early riser, nor is he surprised to see Elbert Arryn in his squire’s room. “Good you are both dressed. Where are Kyle and Jeoffrey?”

 

“They are further down the keep why?” Elbert asks.

 

“We must go.” Brandon says curtly, turning and walking down the hallway.

 

“Where are we going my lord?” Ethan asks.

 

“To King’s Landing to get answers from the king.” Brandon replies.

 

“Why?” Elbert asks.

 

“Because the prince has taken Lyanna.” Brandon says, before he walks down the hallway, he stops in front of a door and looks questioningly at Elbert who nods. He knocks on the door and Kyle, dressed only in some breeches opens the door. Brandon tells him the same story and soon enough his friend and the heir to Runestone is dressed and armed, the same happens with Jeoffrey. Brandon is not surprised by their promptness, members of the Knights know to be ready whenever. For none know when they might be called to service.

 

Soon enough they are down by the stables saddling their horses and leading them out of the stables. Lord Hoster appears then. “Please Knight Commander, I beg you, reconsider.”

 

“No. I will go and get answers from my king.” Brandon replies.

 

“What of my daughter?” Hoster asks.

 

“We consummated the marriage my lord,” Brandon says coolly, impatient now. “And I will return forthwith.” With that he mounts his horse as do the others. Before he spurs his horse on he looks at his goodfather and says. “Do not tell my brother or Baratheon just yet.” Before the man has time to respond he is digging the spurs into his horse and riding off. His men following. They ride in silence, the purpose of their mission meaning they do not need to speak. They do not stop for anything but for food and water, and when they do stop there is nothing mentioned of his sister or the prince. Anger is still digging into his system though, and so after they have had their food, he forces his men back onto their horses and they continue their journey. They ride hard, very hard, they stop at night and rest, but say nothing before continuing on like this for another six days he thinks, stopping only to eat, shit and piss. Eventually King’s Landing comes into sight on a bright and early day, the rage is still simmering within Brandon but it cools somewhat at the sight of the dragon banners, he is safe here. He will get his answers.

 

The gates open after he cites who and what he is, though the tone of the man on the wall is hostile, and that surprises him. What surprises him even more is the nature of the city, much has changed since last he was here. It seems as if the city has become dark and foreboding, as if the prince has taken it over, there are harsh looks at Brandon and his men as they ride up to Aegon’s High Hill. None of the men mention it, but he knows they feel it too. When they get to the doors to the Red Keep, Brandon is relieved to find two of the order standing guard. He dismounts and says. “Brothers. We have come with most urgent haste. May we see the king?”

 

Ser Myles Mooton A Knight-Squire speaks in his deep voice. “You may. The king has long waited for you to come Knight Commander Brandon Stark.” Mooton turns and calls out and the doors open, Brandon nods his thanks and leaves his horse with Mooton, as do his friends as they dismount.

 

Nerves wrack Brandon’s body as he walks through the hallway to the throne room, the dragon banners are there flapping in the hallway, but there is a sense of something desperate in the air. He does not like it, and he does not approve of it, and yet when he sees Ser Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard standing outside the door to the throne room, he merely shows the man the hilt of his sword, its dragon hilt showing him as a member of the order. Darry nods and allows him to enter announcing him as he does so. The throne room is packed when Brandon and his men enter, it seems the king has been holding court. He looks cleaner than he did at Harrenhal, is hair is not as long, but his beard is still thick. Brandon and his men get to the foot of the throne and bend before it. “Your Grace, Your Imperial Majesty. I Brandon Stark Knight Commander of the Order of the Dragon have come before you to beg assistance in a most grievous thing.”

 

There is a moment’s silence and then the king says. “Rise, you may approach Knight Commander.”

 

Brandon walks closer to the foot of the throne then, stopping before the two Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Gerold Hightower. His voice soft he says. “I come to get my sister the Lady Lyanna back. She has been taken by Your Highnesses son Prince Rhaegar.”

 

There is a long murmuring then, before the king raises a hand and the hall falls silent. Brandon looks as the king rises then walking down the steps of the throne, he looks like an old man though he is of an age with Brandon’s own father. He stops before Brandon then and raises a ringed finger, which Brandon kisses. The king withdraws his finger and says. “I will help you find your sister Knight Commander. And together we shall get justice from my son.”


	2. Grey Rat

**4 th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Grand Maester Pycelle**

The royal family was tearing itself apart, Pycelle had watched this scene play out for the past five years and it saddened him to some extent. The dynasty that had built the seven kingdoms and turned them into one was falling, falling deep into a dark abyss, and there was nothing the king or his queen to stop that fall. The king was mad, Duskendale had seen to that, and now without Lord Tywin here to curb the man’s less pleasurable activities things would not get better they would only worsen. That was why Lord Tywin was putting so much faith in Prince Rhaegar, the man had disappeared though, there was naught a sign of him, and Pycelle wondered if the son had become like the father, or worse like his grandfather caught in the web of prophecy that would destroy them all, just as Summerhall had.

Of course, Pycelle did have to admit that he was playing no small part in the king’s continued state of madness. For it served Lord Tywin well to have his old friend unable to deal with the comings and goings of court. What had happened a week ago when Stark had come charging into the throne room, had been an accident. The king had missed his dose, for one reason or another and pronounced a judgement that Pycelle worried would now throw the prince’s plans out completely. He did not know whether Stark could truly do anything in the time he had left, but Pycelle did not want to take any chances. That was why he now looked at the potion before him, and speaking to his prince’s squire says. “Ensure that His Grace the King drinks this before he has his afternoon meal, otherwise there will be hell to pay. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Maester, I shall ensure His Grace drinks this vial.” The squire replies.

“Good, and remember we are doing this for the good of the kingdom.” Pycelle says. “The king is mad, deeply mad. He cannot be allowed to regain his senses otherwise we are all doomed.”

The squire, whom Pycelle is convinced is in love with the prince looks horrified at the thought and bows hastily before turning and leaving. Leaving Pycelle alone to his thoughts. He looks at the book before him and wonders what might happen should the king die of an unfortunate attack. Prince Rhaegar has no male heir, Princess Elia having miscarried on Dragonstone some time ago. A chance then for Lord Tywin to have his daughter as Queen perhaps. The High Septon being within the Prince’s pocket, would allow the marriage no matter what others within the faith might say. The presence of the Stark boy though, that worries Pycelle worries him a great deal. He is not sure what to make of the boy. Brandon Stark, Knight Commander of the Order, a staunch supporter of the king, smart as well, there is some other game afoot here, what he does not know.

Sighing he rubs his eyes, and turns from the book looking to the letter that came from Lord Tywin three days ago.

_Do not allow the wolf to escape the city. He cannot know what is happening outside. I entrust care of the beginning of our plan to you uncle. It is time for you to show what has been lurking beneath the surface all these years._

Lord Tywin had never before referred to their connection before. Never acknowledged that they shared the same blood, only acknowledged his usefulness and that was that. He had to realise just how desperate the situation was becoming to refer to this particular connection, something that he knows rides on Pycelle being able to ensure nothing goes wrong today. The orders must be given out, and for them to be given out, the king must not be within his mind. Sighing once more, he wonders how it came to this. Aerys was such a promising King, but then something changed within him, whether it was the fear of Summerhall coming to light, or of something else Pycelle does not know, but the king changed before Duskendale, and that was when Lord Tywin had used Pycelle’s own connections to his mother’s family to lure him into a plot. So much plotting, he was a shame to his order, but also a credit. He danced a dangerous game, but so did they all. There was no time for anything else, it had to be done like this.

Pushing away from the table and the book and letter, he moves back toward the bed, where waiting for him is the woman he knows he can lose himself in. he sits down on the bed, and as she begins massaging his shoulders, he sighs in content. “Do you wish to speak my love?” she asks.

Pycelle hums. “It is difficult, to know whether this is right or not. Prince Rhaegar has gone, disappeared somewhere and now the plan rests on this. On Stark not knowing, of him not finding out. Gods above know how this will happen. That boy is far too curious.”

“Like his father?” she questions. “You are dealing with him I hope? I would not want for Lord Rickard to come down from his snow abode to cause you trouble my love.”

“Of course. My lord of Lannister knows just what needs to be done with Lord Rickard. For too long have we allowed him to go unchecked. That ends now, the Lord of Winterfell shall never make it to King’s Landing, and he will never know just how much he has been fooled.” Pycelle replies, sighing as her hands move lower down.

“That is good very good.” she replies. Kissing his neck then. “I wish for that man’s death more than I could ever truly say.”

He laughs softly then. “What did he ever do to anger you so my love?”

She kisses his cheek then and says. “He broke a girl’s heart, and left her for dead. I would never suffer such a thing again. Never.”

He turns to face her then, pulls her into his lap and says. “I would never leave you my love. Not for all the gold in Westeros. Rickard Stark is a fool to think he could just leave you. A right fool, and for his own whore of a cousin as well? Gods.”

She kisses him then, full on the lips. “Hush my love. I would rather not spoil this with thoughts of ghosts from the past.”

“Of course my love.” Pycelle murmurs. And then they give themselves, not to talking, but to their lovemaking. When they are done, he lies against the bed, her head on his chest, and his thoughts empty. He stares at the wall, simply stares, and he swears he can see the webs, the webs of this game they all play, dancing before them, shimmering in the faint light. He wonders, wonders whether or not come this evening he will still have a head. It is a risk he knows, a dangerous one, but it is one he desperately wants to take.

As he hears the bells toll for the afternoon prayer at the Great Sept, he raises himself up off the bed. His love lowers herself gently onto the bed watching him with one eye open. Pycelle slowly picks up the clothes scattered across the room, and puts them on. That done he merely looks at his lover, and smiles wanly, before turning and opening the door. He walks out and makes his way toward the council chamber, his heart hammering within his chest.  He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Brandon Stark is not in the council chamber, instead only those he knows are paid and bought for are here. He nods at them all and sits down.

The hand speaks then, Merryweather, a fool of a man, long ago bought. “My lords, thank you all for coming. There is much and more we must discuss. Prince Rhaegar’s abduction of Lady Lyanna is most worrying, of course Lord Varys here assures me that the lady was willing. The question is how to make Brandon Stark see this? For the man is quite convinced that the Prince took his sister without her consent.”

“It is often the way with young men,” Pycelle says. “They say things they think are true, for them the truth would be unthinkable. That his sister could chose to do something without his approval, I am sure is something of a fright for the young man. My lords, you have all met Lord Rickard, you all know him to be stern and stubborn. This is something we must deal with. The Starks cannot be allowed to gain the upper hand, not with the king as he is.”

“What then would you suggest maester?” the hand asks. “To willingly say that his sister ran away with our prince, I think would bring more anger down upon us from Stark than we can deal with. The king did promise to get justice for Stark in front of the whole court. It would look odd should he not go forward with this.”

“The king is not always in his right mind.” Pycelle says _._ “He can change his moods, those at court would know this. Would know not to truly expect the king to truly remember what he has promised one day to the next. Stark will soon come to realise that as well.”

“The Grand Maester is right.” The eunuch says. Pycelle feels a hint of surprise run through him then. “His Grace the king is not in the right state of mind to be making promises. Brandon Stark will soon come to realise this, the sooner he does though, and the better it will be for all of us.”

 _What game are you playing eunuch._ Pycelle wonders. It is not often the eunuch and he see eye to eye on anything let alone the king’s person. Pycelle has his own suspicions about the eunuch, but for now he keeps them to himself. He shall share them with Lord Tywin when the time is right, not before and not after.

The hand looks at them both and asks. “So are you suggesting then, that we hold a court session and allow Stark to see just how volatile the King is and can be?”

“Yes,” Pycelle says slowly, as if speaking to a child. “That would be for the best my lord hand. Anything else would merely provoke too harsh a reaction from Stark. He does hold a position of power here at court, we cannot antagonise him.”

 “Very well, I still want a letter sent out to Winterfell summoning Lord Rickard here with great haste. We all know that Brandon Stark did threaten the prince’s person. That is a grave offense, and if the son will not answer for it, the father must do so.” The hand says.

“Of course my lord hand.” Pycelle says.

The hand then turns his attention to other matters. Most pressingly Braavos. “The Iron Bank, what word have you had from them my lord Chelstead?”

Qarlton Chelstead, one of the few men Pycelle has not been able to win over on this council. A shame really, still he listens intently as the man speaks. “It would seem they are willing to give the crown a loan for the proposed bridge that the king wants built. And yet they are asking for a high rate of repayment in return. It seems they are looking on our treasury in wonder.”

“How high is the repayment?” Merryweather asks.

“Some three hundred thousand dragons. I do not know why the rate is so high. And yet I have always maintained that we do not need a loan from the Iron Bank, what with the treasury being as secure as it is.” Chelstead says.

Merryweather looks as if he has been slapped by a fish. “Three hundred thousand dragons? What in the name of the seven are they expecting this bridge to be like? Gods above no, we cannot accept that. That would be the height of foolishness!”

 _At least there is some sense in this oaf of a man._ Pycelle thinks wryly. Aloud he merely says. “I agree with Lord Chelstead, we cannot afford to take this loan. We do not even need to take this loan. I am sure the king would agree with me on that point.”

Chelstead looks at him suspiciously but says nothing, instead he turns back to watch the hand. The man merely nods and says. “Quite right you are maester. Now Lord Velaryon, tell me what word there has been from the Arbor, are they ready to engage in deployment the moment the order comes?”

Lord Lucerys Velaryon, one of the few men truly loyal to Prince Rhaegar merely nods. He looks completely insulted to be speaking not to the king or the prince, but to a sot such as Merryweather, and if he is being truthful, Pycelle cannot blame him. His voice is composed when he replies. “Yes, Lord Paxter will be ready to move out within the fortnight should word come. It is no secret that he has never held a fondness for the Stormlands or the Baratheons. There are those within his family who constantly go on about the injustices the Baratheons under Ormund and Lyonel Baratheon gave to his family. This is the perfect time to undermine their position.”

The man merely nods and then asks. “And what of the royal fleet? When shall it be ready to move out?”

“Whenever the King sees fit to order us out my lord. We wait only for his command.” Velaryon replies.

There is a long moment’s silence then, and then the hand says. “Very well. That is all, you may all retire for the day. Should the king have need of you, Pycelle shall send for you.”

Pycelle stands and walks out of the council chamber, only stopping when he hears a man calling for him. Seeing that it is Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Pycelle begins to worry. “Yes Lord Commander, what can I do for you?” Pycelle asks in a tone he hopes is natural.

“The king wishes to see you. I have just been informed of this now by Ser Arthur. He awaits you in the throne room.” The White Bull says in his deep tones.

Pycelle nods and scurries off to the throne room. When he arrives, he passes Stark, the man glances at him a moment before turning away. His heart still now, Pycelle bows before the foot of the throne and asks. “You wished to see me Your Grace?”

The king looks at him with unfocused eyes and merely slurs. “I want more. A stronger potion, this headache is killing me.”

Pycelle nods. “Of course Your Grace, I shall see it done.”

“Now what did you decide on the council? Is Stark to be punished for his crimes?” the king asks.

 _So it did work, surprising, I did not think it would work so soon._ Pycelle contemplates this for a brief moment before responding. “Yes Your Grace. He is to be punished for such impudence.”

“Good. Leave.” The king says.

Pycelle bows and leaves, he walks to the rookery, determined to send out the ravens before anything else. His thoughts are set, he knows just what he will write and what will come of this. As he enters the rookery, and begins writing out the letters, he feels a sharp sense of anticipation go through him. One to Winterfell, one to Casterly Rock, and the third one, that one shall not be sent just yet. The chaos has just begun, let the mirrors come falling down.


	3. Secrets, Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It does no good not to know your enemy.

****

**5 th Month of 282 A.C. Riverlands**

**Knight Major Lord Rickard Stark**

The summons had come long ago, Rickard had always known it would come, had known it since the moment Duskendale had happened. Yet, there had been a part of him that had not wanted to accept that. To accept that the young prince he had once known had been reduced to the mad mess that their sources reported was something Rickard found hard to stomach. It was something that he knew might well have been Tywin’s doing, and yet he had not solid evidence for that. No solid evidence to suggest anything of the sort, and that frustrated him. Something was going on, something was happening within King’s Landing, what it was though, he did not know, there had been no word from Brandon and his son had been in King’s Landing for a moon now. That was another thing that worried him. His eldest son might be known as the wild wolf, a name Lyarra had given him, but Brandon had a good brain on him when he deigned to use it, and the position he had been given had done wonders for him.

The order had been set up in the dying days of Aegon the fifth of that name’s reign. The King’s grandfather had been a good man with noble intentions and yet his children had not done him any favours. Their love marriages had nearly brought Westeros to its knees, and that was without taking into consideration the Blackfyres who had been a threat and might, if reports were true, remain a threat still. King Aerys, who had been a prince then had decided that enough was enough, and had called a meeting of all the young lords or heirs who were on the campaign in the Stepstones. They had all sworn their vows before him, determined to prevent the fall of House Targaryen the chaos that might come with that. And then something changed, something between Aerys and Tywin changed and nothing was ever the same afterward. It still boggled his mind as to what that might have been, for he could not place his finger on it, but something had happened, and now they were all paying the price for it.

Rickard suspected there was more to it than what had originally been thought. Tywin no doubt was insulted over not being named Knight Major, second only in power to the Dragon. The ranks had been decided long ago during that day when they were all young and filled with hot blood. The Dragon, Aerys, the man to lead them from chaos. The Knight Major, the second in command who would lead the Dragon’s forces when the Dragon was needed elsewhere, the Knight Generals who commanded kingdom forces, and the Knight Commanders who were subservient to the Generals and commanded individual forces, and finally Knight Squires who were the lowest ranks. The original Knight Major had been the king’s own cousin Prince Laenor Targaryen, son of Prince Duncan and Princess Jenny, yet the Prince had been slain in the Stepstones dealing with pirates some fifteen years ago, and Rickard not Tywin had been named as Knight Major.  The decision had surprised Rickard, but he had accepted it gratefully, and he had the feeling that Tywin had never quite gotten over only remaining as a knight commander for that time.

Rickard sighs, thinking over the past would serve him no good now. The Twins themselves were a looming omen, a sign of Tywin Lannister and the power he had amassed. Rickard had never truly liked Walder Frey, but now found himself having to spend time with the old lord, determined as he was to find out whether there was some plot or the other on the go. Rickard could not forget that the man was related to Tywin Lannister through marriage if not blood, and so he kept his guard up and asked his men to do the same. He listened as the old man spoke. “I remember your father you know Lord Rickard. Ah yes, he was an interesting man, with fire in his blood not damned ice, unlike your grandfather.”

Rickard looks at the old man surprised. “You knew my grandfather?”

“Lord Willam? Oh yes I knew him well. I was there when he wed your grandmother you see. We knew one another reasonably well when I was young, I nearly squired for him you see. A strange man that, one who knew many things but said little.” the Lord of the Crossing says.

“Such as?” Rickard asks curiously.

The old man laughs. “Did your father never tell you? I suppose he would not have. Lord Willam was a man shaped by his circumstances Lord Rickard. A man who knew when to do one thing and when to do another. It was a gift he had, he had to have it to repair the north after what happened during the little war you lot had up there.”

Rickard feels something inside him tighten at that. “Indeed, my grandfather was a great lord, and someone who did what needed to be done.”

The Lord of the Twins laughs. “I think it was more than that my lord. I think there were certain things being done in the north whilst he was alive, to hide certain other truths. You never did meet your great uncle Donnor or your great uncle Errold now did you?” Rickard looks at the man a feeling of trepidation running through him. “Why do you think that is?”

“Lord Donnor died during the war in the north, a result of treachery and betrayal. He died and my grandfather became Lord. It was a time of war. As for Errold, he died fighting in Skaagos once more. That is what happened.” Rickard responds cautiously.

Lord Walder merely laughs. “Is that what Edwyle told you?” the man shakes his head then. “I am not surprised. That man had a lot to shoulder as well. Your father was a man who created his own messes you know.”

Rickard stiffens then, he is well aware of what his father was and what he did. “My father was a man who played with the hand that was dealt to him.”

The old lord laughs once more. “Is that what you believe? I suppose I cannot blame you. It is not in us to hate our fathers once they are dead. Why my own father was a man who needed a severe reprimand now and then. He dealt with traitors and rebels, and yet here I am, alive and well, still breathing because of some of his decisions. I am sure the same could be said for you my lord.”

Rickard feels his anger begin to rise. “And what pray tell, makes you think you are in any position to judge me on that front my lord?”

The Lord of the Crossing merely laughs. “I know things about your family that I am sure even you do not know. I know things about your new family that would make even the barest of people shrivel with despair. You have tied yourself to a family of snakes in the Tullys. Hoster Tully is a man out for his own gain.”

Rickard looks at the man. “And you are not? It is a poisonous world we live in my lord, everyone knows only what benefits them. Why do you bring your liege lord into this situation?”

Lord Walder looks at him and merely laughs. “Do you not find it odd, how your son learned of your daughter’s disappearance at Riverrun? And do you not find it strange that it was at Harrenhal that Prince Rhaegar was going to overthrow his father? The Whents and the Tullys have more than a marriage tying them together, they have many other things as well. Mainly that Ser Oswell is a man who knows how to play and his brother is one other such man.”

Rickard merely looks at the lord and then responds. “You are talking of things that might have been true when King Aegon was alive, but since then they have stopped mattering.”

“Have they? Or is it that they are merely less prominent then they were during that king’s time? Come now Lord Rickard you are learned man, you know things that very few others would know, or would even wish to know. Tell me, why do you think your daughter has gone missing?” Lord Walder asks his voice low.

Rickard feels something tighten within him then at the mention of Lyanna. “Prince Rhaegar has done what he has done for one reason or another. I mean to get answers for his actions.”

“Was that not why your son went south though my lord? Your heir even, to go and demand from the king, who all call the mad king, to get answers as to where his sister might be? And yet a month has passed and nothing has been heard from him?” Lord Walder asks.

Rickard feels his hands curl into fists, and sees out of the corner of his eye that his men are forming up. Something is about to happen now. “My son is doing his job, but we all know that the Lannisters have always exercised some control over Pycelle. It would not surprise me if something were going amiss there. Furthermore, your own knowledge of all of this is surprising. Tell me my lord, how do you know all of this?”

The Lord of the Crossing smiles then. “When you have as large a family as I do, you learn things. I know for a fact that there was more to that fool Baelish’s duel than meets the eye. My son Hosteen met him in an inn afterward, and there he said all kinds of things.”

“Baelish is a boy, and his father was a good man. And yet, I know you Lord Walder. There is something you want from me, otherwise you would not be mentioning any of this. What is it you want?” Rickard asks.

The old lord looks at him and says. “What do I want? What I have always wanted. I want my piece of the cake, I want my toll. And I have been denied it many times in the past. I know there is more to the dragons than what merely meets the eye, and I want to know what it is. I know you can give me that chance, and so if you want to go south, you will give me that opportunity.”

Rickard looks at the man, now it is his time to laugh “You think I am going to do that? Why should I allow that to happen Lord Walder? There are many things one has to do before one can be accepted, and you have always tried and failed to do those things. I do not believe you would improve now.”

“You are a fool then Stark. A damned fool, just like your father. Perhaps it is that Blackwood blood in you that makes you so like that. A shame really, for I was truly hoping we might resolve this without violence.” Frey responds.

At that, Rickard sees the men of the hall move forward their swords raised. Rickard’s own men draw their weapons at a nod from him, and he looks at the old man on the throne before him. “You do not want to do this Walder. This is a big mistake.”

“The only mistake I made was not killing you when you were a boy.” Frey responds.

Frey claps his hands then and his men advance forward, Rickard draws his own sword then and moves toward the steps of the throne, he kills those men who come before him to try and stop him, and moves toward the old man sat shrivelled on the throne. He points his sword at Walder Frey and says. “Call off your men, or meet death.”

The old man merely looks at him and snarls. “You would not dare. The Prince would have you killed.”

Rickard thrusts his sword inside the old man and responds. “The prince is a dead man.”


	4. Gojira

**5 th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Knight Commander Brandon Stark**

Darkness was growing over the city, Brandon could feel it, deep within his bones, he had known it truly from the moment he had ridden into the city and seen the divisions. The Red Keep was a prison for the king and those who knew their true purpose, but why it had become that way he did not know. Something deep was going on here, he knew Prince Rhaegar had broken rank alongside Tywin Lannister, and now, well gods alone knew what was going to happen. Since arriving in King’s Landing he had only seen the king once, and even then that meeting had been brief and fleeting. And now, now he was meeting with Grand Maester Pycelle, for some reason or the other. He did not trust Pycelle had never trusted Pycelle, but the man had his uses.

Brandon sits lounging in a chair in the grand maester’s chambers, he feels bored, and he knows there is something the man is hiding he is just not sure what. “So tell me maester, what is it that ails the king so?”

“My lord?” Pycelle asks sounding confused.

“The king, what ails him so much? I have asked to see him some four times now in the past month that I have been here, and yet every time I am denied access to his person. As a member of the order, that should not be the case. So I ask, as his maester, what is wrong with him.” Brandon states.

From the way the man shifts uncomfortably Brandon knows there is some lie coming. “His Grace regrets that he could not see you, but it seems that he has been ailing with some sickness for some time. As a consequence he has increasingly put the power into the hand of the king.”

Brandon laughs. “Merryweather? Come now Pycelle, I am not a fool, there is more to this than meets the eye. We all know that Merryweather is a fool who does what he is told and nothing more. So I ask again, what is wrong with the king?”

The Grand Maester looks at him something akin to anger in his gaze, Brandon remains unfazed, he merely stares at the man waiting for his response, and when it does come, Brandon does not believe the words. “The King has been ailing my lord, and as such has requested that none see him until he is better.”

Whether it is impatience or anger that is making him snap right now, he does not know but that is what happens. “And pray tell me how long that will take? My sister is missing, and the king has said that he shall aid me as best he can, so far that help has not materialised.”

The Maester’s face changes into a smirk briefly, so briefly one might think it was nothing, but Brandon knows how to read people, and so he sees it. “The king is trying his hardest. Until such time, I suggest you leave it to the hand to sort out.”

Just as planned, a knock on the door takes Pycelle’s attention and he hobbles toward the door to open it, in that time Brandon leans across the desk and takes the first piece of paper he finds, which has a lion’s symbol emblazoned on it. He reads it quickly and then puts it down. Something brewing within him. The Maester walks back to him and says. “I am afraid my lord that I must ask you to leave. Council business.”

Brandon stands then. “Of course, not to worry.” with that he walks out of the room and back toward his own chambers, when he enters them he finds Ethan there waiting for him as asked. “What did you find out?” he asks his squire.

There is a moment’s silence and then his squire responds. “I spoke with Myles Mooton, and I know that Elbert spoke to Richard Lonmouth. Rhaegar did not include them in his plans, but Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent were there when Rhaegar took Lady Lyanna. It seems he became obsessed with her following Harrenhal, and might well have been obsessed with her before.”

That takes Brandon by surprise. “What? How could he have even known who she was, before Harrenhal?”

His friend looks somewhat uncomfortable, but then says. “Dreams. According to Myles, the Prince used to dream about all kinds of things, and in one of his dreams he saw a maid with the head of a wolf. He took that to mean your sister and as such decided to act on it. He spoke with various members of the court, those who Lord Rickard had entrusted to come here, and ensured something was set up.”

Brandon considers this and then dismisses it. “Impossible. My father would never turn on the king, the prince might have been about to remove his father, but my father was the main obstacle in his path.” It hits him then. “The bastard. He took Lyanna as a warning to father. He is trying to force father’s hand.”

Ethan looks confused then. “Why would he try to do that?”

“Because it would force father to consider voting to remove the king, if Lyanna is in the prince’s custody then father’s hands are tied. He cannot use his position as Knight Major to overrule the prince, if Lyanna is the man’s wife. That goes against the very tenant of the order. Damnation, this has Tywin’s hands all over it.” Brandon says.

“Tywin Lannister?” Ethan asks confused. “Why would he want Lady Lyanna married to Prince Rhaegar? Surely he would want his own brat of a daughter married to the prince.”

Brandon nods. “Normal logic would dictate that with Princess Elia having failed to give the prince a son, any daughter that gave the prince a son would be most valued within the kingdom. And Tywin has always wanted to have his blood on the throne, and yet, this, this is a better strategy.”

“How so?” Ethan asks.

“Because it makes it look as if Lyanna tricked the prince into running off with her, it hurts Dorne and Princess Elia, and it turns the commons against my family. And their love is hard won.” Brandon muses. “A well thought out strategy.”

“And it seems that it is working.” a voice from the door says. Brandon turns round to see Jeoffrey Mallister standing there, his silver hair gleaming slightly in the light.

“What do you mean? Have you had word from outside?” Brandon asks.

His friend nods. “The talk of the riverlands, Lord Rickard killed Walder Frey and his men butchered their way out of the Twins. Some of Prince Rhaegar’s faction are calling for justice, whilst others are merely looking through the wreckage. Lord Rickard is being summoned before the king to answer for this.”

His father’s actions shock him, but he knows that his father would never act in such a way without good reason. “What happened? Why did my father resort to such methods?”

There is a moment’s silence, and Brandon can feel something akin to horror growing within him, until his friend responds. “Because Lord Walder was going to kill him. There are many curious tales being told about what happened at the Twins Brandon, but that is what I have been able to gauge. My mother sent me word of this, and so I’ve acted on it.”

Brandon is surprised by this, his friend’s mother, Lady Daenys Mallister, granddaughter of King Maekar Targaryen, rarely got involved with her family’s problems and yet now, now here she was. “How did she know what to do and how to get it passed the city watch?”

His friend grins then. “Because she rode to King’s Landing from Duskendale, she was staying there when my brother wrote to her. It seems that people are still afraid of her here. And well, she wanted to speak with you.”

His friend moves to the side then and Brandon feels himself exhale then at the sight of the woman before him. Lady Daenys Mallister, a great beauty in her youth, and still a great beauty now, even though she must be the same age if not older than his father. She stands there looking at him, and then he remembers his manners and kisses her outstretched hand. “It is an honour to see you once more my lady. You look lovely as always.”

The woman merely laughs. “You and your father always are ones for courtesy. Enough of that now Knight Commander, I say we speak about these things properly. I will sit down, and you will close the door Jeoffrey.”

They follow her instructions, no one in their right mind would refuse Daenys Mallister, not if they wanted to live. And so once that is done, they all look at her expectantly, and Brandon remembering what his father had once said, speaks first. “So, Jeoffrey, tells me that you have come from Duskendale. Do you know what happened there during the defiance?”

The woman looks at him a moment and then says. “Not only do I know what happened there, but I know who instigated it. And it was not that girl Serala of Myr, oh no, it was someone else entirely, and I do believe we all know who it was.”

She does not need to say a name before Brandon comes to the conclusion himself. “But why? Why would he do that?”

“Because the king was growing too confident on his own, and our dearly beloved Lord Hand does not like that. He has always wanted to be a member of our family, and as such would have done anything to bring himself closer, and so he wanted to show his former friend just how useful he could be. It was all done at Tywin’s instigation and when the king was captured, well, that was just fine, for there was Prince Rhaegar who had agreed to marry Lady Cersei.” Lady Daenys says.

“Wait, Prince Rhaegar agreed to a marriage?” Brandon asks incredulously.

“Yes, there was a signed record of it as well, I believe it is somewhere here within the Red Keep, buried within the vault as it were, by the Prince.” Lady Daenys responds.

“And of course Tywin would never mention it once Aerys was brought out of Duskendale, because it would mean risking everything. Better to work with the mad king and bring him down from inside than to risk everything on a gamble. But then, that does mean that Princess Rhaenys is not trueborn.” Brandon muses.

“It means nothing of the sort,” Jeoffrey says. “Rhaegar and Princess Elia were married in front of the gods and men, their marriage is legitimate as is any offspring that it produces.”

“Actually, that is not true.” Lady Daenys says, and she holds up a hand when her son goes to protest. “In congruence with Maegor’s marriage pact of 43 A.C., a betrothal is quite binding, and therefore unless formally broken between the two parties, nullifies any other marriage pact made. This was done deliberately by Prince Rhaegar and Tywin, they wanted to throw one last insult towards Dorne and Princess Loreza.”

Brandon considers this and wonders over it. “I cannot use this formally without the solid proof there for the king to look at. Hells, none of this will matter unless I can see the king, and I do not know if that will be achieved.”

Lady Daenys looks at him a moment and then says. “Perhaps you might go about it a different way. Do not go charging in Knight Commander, go in as if you were going for a dance. And then you might find what you are looking for.” the woman stands then and walks out of the room accompanied by Jeoffrey, leaving Brandon and Ethan alone.

Brandon looks at his squire then and says. “Perhaps it is time we paid a visit to the vault. After all we must make sure that all of the order’s papers are there, and that that fool has not taken anything. And then a conversation with the eunuch is in order.”


	5. Why?

****

**6 th Month of 282 A.C. Riverrun**

**Knight Major Lord Rickard Stark**

Riverrun was somewhat of safe haven for him, it had been for some time. And though he loathed the fact that he had been delayed in getting to King’s Landing because of the injuries he had received during the destruction of the Twins, he knew that this time was good. It gave him time to recuperate and to plan his next move. Rhaegar was still missing, and with every passing day Rickard began wondering if Lyanna had perhaps gone with the prince willingly. It stung him that his daughter might have done such a thing, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. After all, Rickard’s own mother had gone once long ago, he had not seen her for years, did not know if she was still alive, but Lyanna was more like Rickard’s mother than he had ever cared to admit. And now, now he was scared, scared that this might come back to haunt them all.

Rickard looks at his old friend, and says. “So, my son and Robert Baratheon were here for the wedding and then they departed for the Vale? How long did they tarry here?”

Hoster looks back at him and then says. “They were here for around four days following the wedding. They asked many questions, but I managed to deflect their questions. Eventually they returned to the Vale, I believe because Jon’s nephew is to be married.”

 “Elbert? He went south with Brandon though did he not?” Rickard asks.

“Not Elbert, the other one. What is his name, Jasper?” Hoster responds.

Rickard considers this and then responds. “Yes, it would have to have been Jasper. Though from what the order had reported, it seemed that Jon and his nephew did not get along too well. This does not seem right to me.”

His friend nods in agreement. “Aye, I think that there is something more going on in the Vale. I do not think Jon Arryn has been completely honest with any of us.”

“When one considers who his father was, I do not think that is much of a surprise. He had a hand in the deaths of Prince Maegor, and Prince Maegor’s mother and children. The man and his family have long been against the king and his family. I just thought that perhaps Jon might have changed since the war of the ninepenny kings.” Rickard responds.

Hoster looks at him surprised. “What made you think that?”

Rickard is silent a moment, and then responds. “During the war, I saved the man’s life. He had fallen fighting one of the Blackfyres, and I slew the Blackfyre. And yet now the more I think about it, I have the feeling that perhaps Jon Arryn was not so innocent.”

A moment’s silence and then Hoster asks him. “What do you mean by that? Do you think he had something to do with the Blackfyre invasion that year?”

Rickard is silent and then says. “I do not know. I think he had certainly had a hand in some other things. The Rat, the Hawk and the Pig for example. That was something that he and his father had a hand in, for it has his fingers all over it. And yet King Aegon never had him thrown in the black cells or killed.”

His friend sighs then. “Jon Arryn, we have placed much on his shoulders, and now it seems we are only just beginning to see his true colours. I am shocked to say that I do not find this surprising. I always thought he was too good to be true.”

Rickard nods. “Aye, I have long thought about calling Ned back from the Vale, and yet have held my hand back from doing so. I did not wish for the man to get suspicious. For too long has he been allowed to sit idly by and as such I think that there is more to the man than either of us knew.”

“What have you found?” Hoster asks.

Rickard sighs and says. “I did some looking into Jon Arryn and the whole issue of Prince Maegor. We both know his father had a hand in the Prince’s death, but one thing that was never clear to me was what happened to Vaella Targaryen.  She was somewhat inconsequential, to some at least, and yet she turned out to be quite a smart girl, and yet she disappeared from the records around the time of the great betrothals. I did not know where to look to find her, and then I found something.” he pauses then, takes a drink and goes on. “She disappeared on a visit to the Vale, in the shrouds of the mountains of the moon, where it was said a dragon had once dwelled. I found enough proof to suggest she was murdered.”

His friend gasps then. “Murdered? Why? BY who?”

“Jon Arryn I believe. The man was trying to get back at the Targaryens, for they took his father and his mother away from him. They robbed him of a chance to become what his father had so sought. A chance to become part of the dragons, and so he sought to claim that through one way or another. Princess Vaella was given up for that purpose. Taken whilst she visited the old mountain, and her blood fed Jon Arryn’s plan.” Rickard says.

The Lord of Riverrun looks sick as sick as Rickard himself feels. “So he killed the girl to what? Become a dragon? What does that even mean?”

Rickard sighs and says. “It means that he has blood of the dragon not running through his veins but within the weapons he uses. There is only one thing that can kill a dragon and that is their own blood. It was something that was most protected by the Targaryens of old. And yet the dragons are dead, only their humans remain.”

Lord Hoster looks at him then and asks. “You don’t think he means to bring them back do you?”

Rickard runs a hand through his hair and responds. “I do not know. Knowing Arryn, I would not put it past him. He has a Targaryen descendant in his hands with Robert, and he has a man of King’s blood in my son. And knowing Arryn, no doubt he means to get back for the years preceding the conquest.”

Hoster looks at him then his face filled with surprise. “Why have you not removed your son from the Vale then? If you know this, why have you not tried to get him back home?”

Rickard takes a deep breath and then says. “Because, doing that would only alert him to the fact that I know of something. I do not yet have complete proof that Jon Arryn is plotting this. I need more evidence and for that to happen I need him to act. The only way he will act is through making it seem as though all is normal.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Hoster asks.

Rickard takes a breath before responding. “Because the spies I have within the Vale tell me he is a creature of habit. And now, we must make sure more so than ever, that his habit remains in place. For all of our sakes we must make sure that remains the case.”

Silence falls between them, and then Hoster asks. “Would you like to speak with Cat?”

He considers this a moment and then shakes his head. “Myself and my men have tarried here long enough. Thank you for the offer though. How is my gooddaughter doing?”

A smile blooms on his friend’s face. “She is well thank you old friend. She is with child, about two moons along. When you see your son, please do let him know.”

Rickard nods. “I shall be sure to do so.” he pauses a moment, hesitating and then he asks. “Has there been word from Harrenhal? I know there has been much and more made of the massacre at the Twins, but nothing has come from Harrenhal for me. Is old Whent, still good for the plan?”

His friend looks concerned at this. “I am not sure. He is not responding to any of my letters, and the last I heard he was planning his daughter’s wedding. But it would not surprise me if his sons were involved in this. It reeks of that boy what is his name? Harren?”

“His heir? Harren Whent? Yes quite an unfortunate business that name choosing. But to what end would they work with the Prince? They have more to gain by remaining loyal.” Rickard muses.

“Who knows with the Whents, they have never been the same since old Alyssa died.” Hoster says.

Rickard thinks on this and then stands. “Well that is quite true. But now, I must begin making preparations to leave, I must hasten to King’s Landing and ensure the king is well before we begin our plan.”

His friend stands with him. “If you are certain of that. You can stay for a few more days surely?”

“No, no, it is nothing against you old friend, but I must away. I am needed in the capital. The time has come.” Rickard says.

There is a moment’s silence and then Rickard departs from his friend’s solar. He spends the next few hours preparing himself and his men for their departure. Nerves flutter in his stomach, he knows that what happens on the journey to the capital could be just as important as what happens in the capital. He is not foolish enough to believe that everything will go smoothly, but neither is he willing to believe it will all go badly. Brandon is smart, has always been cunning, and so long as he does not stray far from the red keep, should be safe.  He tells himself this to make it easier to pack his things, wincing slightly at the wounds he feels.

Eventually all is packed and ready, once the horses are prepared he mounts his horse, looks at his old friend and says. “We shall meet in the capital Hoster. And we shall bring justice.”

His friend nods. “Of course.”

Rickard looks briefly at his gooddaughter and then, spurs his horse forward, and rides out of Riverrun. The ride is quiet, thankfully, and Rickard is allowed to consider his own thoughts. He knows that whatever it is Jon Arryn has planned, it pales in comparison to what those two great traitors Rhaegar and Tywin have planned. Something about all of that just rings wrong for him. He does not know where they went wrong with those two, but somewhere they did and now they are going to have to pay the price for it. He sighs, the journey is passing quickly, and Riverrun is far in the background now, High Heart comes into view and Rickard gets the feeling that something is going to happen.

Whatever it is that he felt, it is gone quite quickly, and so he orders his men to continue onward. They ride and ride until they come toward Rushing Falls, they stop for a while, and eventually decide that perhaps the time to set up camp is just right. However, Rickard knows that staying here will be bad, remembers what happened the last time he came to Rushing Falls. Instead he orders his men to continue marching, and so they do until they come to a Holdfast, he knows that they have ridden long and hard, but he also knows that they could not afford to stop before here. He calls his men to a halt, night has fallen, and as he dismounts he sees a man walking out of the holdfast, a woman accompanying him.

“Who goes there?” the man asks.

“It is I, Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Master of the Order.” Rickard says.

The man looks at him for a long moment and then says. “Ah yes, Lord Rickard we have been expecting you.”

Rickard hides his surprise and says. “Might my men and I, take lodgings here for the night?”

The woman speaks then, and Rickard feels a chill go down him as he hears her voice. “Of course my lord, who are we to deny that Lord of Winterfell. Do come with us.”

Rickard turns back and sees the same feeling of fear on Martyn’s face. He swallows and follows the lady, knowing that he will not see another sunrise. 


	6. Desperado

**6 th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Knight Commander Brandon Stark**

There was something about King’s Landing, something in the walls or the very fabric of the city that just did not sit right with him. Brandon did not know what it was, but there was a part of him that wished to return home to Winterfell, to his wife. He did not even know what was happening outside of King’s Landing baring the little snippets of information he was able to get. It seemed someone, or something was keeping all the outside information completely out of King’s Landing, or at least from his ears at least. It was a damned frustrated thing and something he was determined to change. Of course, there were things that he had learned in King’s Landing itself that were cause for concern, and as he sat down with his companions to discuss them, he wondered who else knew about them.

Brandon looks around the room, the headquarters for the order as it were, the place where they were founded, and he looks at each person in it one by one, and then says. “I think there is something deeper going on here. Prince Rhaegar might have taken my sister, but I doubt that was the only thing that he took with him. Lady Daenys, you were here under King Aegon, what did you observe of his time as king toward the end?”

Lady Daenys fixes her eyes on him, and he is reminded once more of her beauty, though she is old there is no denying that she is still beautiful. “My uncle became most desperate towards the end of his reign. After the crushing of the rat, the hawk and the pig and their little rebellion, we had lost my cousin Daeron,” here she pauses for a moment, and Brandon senses an old wound opening again. “The death of one son who was martially minded crushed my uncle, his eldest son Duncan was still there, but he was not in line for the throne and that worried my uncle. I believe, that is when he began looking to bring back the dragons.”

Brandon looks at the lady, and then at his friends, Jeffory is holding his mother’s hand, his eyes glinting with repressed anger, Elbert looks confused, Ethan is looking at him intently, Kyle is also looking at him intently. Brandon takes a moment to compose himself and then asks. “And did he begin speaking more and more with the wood’s witch that Jenny of Oldstones had brought with her to court?”

Lady Daenys snorts. “That old cow? Yes, he did. The fool. She spoke in tongues, words that did not make sense, prophecies, and my uncle drank them in like the fool he had become. I do not know why he was so desperate, but he was. He became convinced the dragons had to be brought back in order to save the house.”

Brandon knows his friends are growing restless, wanting to know where he is going with this. But he knows he cannot just rush into something like this, he needs to ensure Lady Daenys is suitably comfortable talking about the issue. And so, taking a moment he composes himself and then asks. “And, what in your opinion made him more inclined to listen to the wood’s witch? I know that his hand was arguing against listening to her, and that Prince Duncan grew to resent her presence there.”

Lady Daenys snorts again. “Because, by that point my uncle needed something to cling to. His heir had deserted him, Daeron was dead, Prince Jaehaerys was not the heir he thought he would be. He was trying to reclaim the glory that his ancestors had had but he was failing to. And so he turned to dragons and magic. Two things that had never served us well after the dance.”

Before he can ask his next question, Jeffory speaks. “What has this got to do with anything Brandon?”

Brandon looks at his friend and says. “It is relevant to what I am going to mention soon. We cannot have the next discussion without this.”

Lady Daenys looks at her son then and says. “It is fine Jeffory, I can handle this. Go on Knight Commander ask your questions.”

Brandon takes a moment and then asks. “You say that dragons and magic never served House Targaryen well after the dance, why is that my lady?”

Lady Daenys looks at him and then responds. “Because, the dragons were killed off by the maesters. I am sure you know about that from your own queries Knight Commander. They were not pure, not like those who were hatched in the years immediately following the conquest. The more the Targaryens settled into King’s Landing the more chance there was of the maesters polluting the eggs. I am not sure how they managed to do it, but they did. As for magic, it was magic that killed my uncle at Summerhall, it was magic that killed my mother, and it was magic that will bring this family to its doom.”

At this Jeffory speaks. “What do you mean by that mother? How can magic bring the Targaryens to their doom?”

Lady Daenys sighs then. “Because, Prince Rhaegar is acting on a prophecy something that my uncle thought might be true, and something Jaehaerys definitely thought was true. He is acting on an urge that has plagued the family for years.”

“What prophecy?” Elbert asks his voice questioning.

Lady Daenys looks at Brandon then and asks. “Shall I tell him, or will you?”

“My information makes more sense if you tell them, my lady.” Brandon responds.

“The prophecy of the prince who was promised. A saviour meant to end the darkness and bring the light. Uncle Aegon became convinced he had to ensure this came into being to bring about the changes he wanted, Jaehaerys wanted his line to have some importance, and so Summerhall happened, Aerys married Rhaella, and Rhaegar was born. And now Rhaegar has acted on it.” Daenys says sadly.

“I still do not understand, what does this have to do with anything?” Kyle asks.

Brandon looks at his friend and says. “It is important, because what I have found suggests there is more to all that is happening here than we first thought.” he pauses then, takes a moment to compose his thoughts and then speaks. “I have found sufficient information to believe that Prince Rhaegar has taken my sister in an attempt to sire the child he believes to be the prince that was promised. In the journals that I found, he wrote of a song of ice and fire, how Princess Elia’s failure to produce a male heir was a sign that Dorne was not worth the risk that had been created by the throne. Furthermore, he seemed to think that by taking my sister he could ensure that my family never rose against him.”

There is a long silence and then Elbert speaks. “So he’s taken Lady Lyanna to fulfil some prophecy that may or may not be right? Why in the name of the seven hells would he want to do that?”

Brandon looks at the heir to the Vale and responds. “Because, I do believe Prince Rhaegar has gone mad. He thinks he is the one to bring about a golden age in Westeros, and is determined to see that happen. Regardless of the pain he causes, or the suffering he inflicts. And I have reason to believe he might well have forced his father into making the marriage arrangement with Princess Elia.”

“What? Why? He was already betrothed to Lady Cersei, why would he deliberately force his father into something that only hampers him?” Elbert asks.

Brandon scratches his beard, and then looks at his friend. “Because he knew that it would give his father great pleasure to make the match. And because, once the match had been made it would mean he could further alienate Tywin from his father. Prince Rhaegar was playing a dangerous game.”

Lady Daenys speaks then, and she sounds sad, terribly sad. “I thought it might come to this. Rhaegar always had something over his shoulder about being born in Summerhall, and I do not think his grandmother helped things. She was constantly speaking of the prophecy near him when he was young, and if I remember correctly she guided him to the book that made him change.”

“Book? What book?” her son asks.

Brandon nods at the book on the table before them. “This book, the title is lost to age, but the contents it seems are what encouraged the Prince to become a warrior. There is one passage which became more and more crumpled from use, it is about the rise of the Warrior from the Seven, and it mentions how followers of the cult of the warrior thought that this was Daemon Blackfyre, and then thought it was Prince Baelor. Now it seems Rhaegar thinks it is him.”

“I have heard of this cult. What are they called?” Elbert asks.

“I do not think they have a name. Not one that I have been able to find.” Brandon responds.

Jeffory speaks then. “What does this have to do with the king? We have not been able to find anything regarding what ails the king yet have we? That is worrying, I have heard rumours that he means to bring charges before us.”

Brandon stares at Mallister then. “Where did you hear that from?”

Jeffory looks embarrassed then and Brandon knows exactly where he heard it from. “It does not matter where I heard it from, but it matters that the word is there, and people are talking Brandon. The order needs your father now more so than ever.”

Brandon sighs then. “Has Mooton been acting out then?”

Mallister nods. “Yes, and it seems Connington and Lonmouth have been as well.”

Brandon curses then. “Gods, I knew we should have dealt with them the moment we had a chance.” he sighs then. “We cannot afford to have division within the ranks, not now, definitely not now.”

“Do you think Prince Rhaegar is the one commanding their strings?” Elbert asks.

“Most definitely.” Brandon responds. “They are doing this on his orders, whether he has gotten word to them now or beforehand I do not know, but somehow he is doing it.”

“Why would he do this? I do not understand, why would he deliberately do something that would undermine his own position within the order? The order helps keep the dragon secure on the throne. Surely he realises that.” Kyle says.

Brandon sighs then. “I think the prince might well be doing this deliberately, the Order is his father’s order, not his, and he might well be trying to purge us from the order to make way for his own members. We must make sure that Connington and Mooton are dealt with.”

“How? We cannot kill them that goes against the rules of the order and we do not have sufficient enough proof to make a case before the king. Not that he would be likely to hear us, considering his current state. How do we stop them?” Kyle asks.

Brandon sighs then, Kyle speaks the truth there, and yet he is unwilling to accept defeat on such a matter. “I say we strike at where we know there are those who have some connection to Tywin Lannister. Pycelle for one, we all know what he is and who he is.” He thinks for a moment and then says. “In fact, I know for a fact that Pycelle has been doing something to the king with Lord Tywin’s approval. I saw a letter on his desk, I need to get another look at it, but I know there is something going on there.”

His friends look at him for a long time then, and in the silence Brandon swears he can hear their hearts beating, an unnerving thought that. Eventually, Elbert speaks. “What can we do?”

Brandon looks at his friends. “Speak with Connington and Mooton get them talking, or try Lonmouth, we must form a strong case before we go to the king.”


	7. My Last Serenade

**6 th Month of 282 A.C. Holdfast**

**Knight Major Lord Rickard Stark**

They were but a few days ride from King’s Landing, Rickard knew that as surely as he knew that they would never make it to King’s Landing. As he looked at the woman who was staring at him intently, and her husband, he realised this had been what his mother had spoken of all those years ago. In his arrogance he had thought he could avoid it, avoid the fate that it seemed the three eyed crow had set out for him all those years ago, and yet here it was, before him, staring him in the eyes. He knew trying to flee was pointless, he only hoped that they did not have Martyn and the men who had come with him slain, that would be bad, very bad. Rickard looks around him at the room where they have brought him and his men, and then looks back at the woman and merely smiles.

“What do you find so amusing my lord?” the woman asks.

“Only that it seems fitting that it be here that my destiny comes to fruition. Tell me how long have you been waiting for this moment?” Rickard responds calmly.

The woman looks at him intently then. “And what makes you think that we have been waiting for anything? That is highly presumptuous of you is it not my lord?”

“He always been presumptuous as the Knight Major, my love. It is why Aerys named him Knight Major in the first place.” the man responds.

Rickard bristles at this and responds. “I was named Knight Major because of my service to the king during the war of the ninepenny kings and in the years that followed that.”

The man looks at him then, his eyes hard and unflinching. “And what service did you give the king after the war?”

Rickard stiffens then, sensing that this might well be a trap. The woman speaks for him then. “Murdering those who the king thought responsible. Or was it his father who ordered you to do that? How many innocent people did you kill during that time? How many women did you turn into widows?”

Rickard feels his anger grow then. “I did what needed to be done. Those who died were guilty of treason. The Blackfyres might have been slain, but their bastards and their supporters remained at large. The realm could not afford another generation of war.”

“So those who died at Bitterbridge, at Sunglass, at the Willow’s Edge, all those people had to die? Did they need to suffer the wrath of the wolf?” the woman asks.

Rickard feels himself stiffen at the mention of those places, he is not surprised that they know of what happened there, they’ve always known. And yet he looks at the woman and then the man, and he knows what they expect him to say, and so he responds. “I regret those deaths. I have always regretted those deaths, and yet I made my peace with that long ago. Why then bring them up now?”

“We are not mentioning anything, merely citing examples of your cruelty. For you see, you are a very bad man Lord Rickard. You might think yourself above the southern lords, but we have been watching you for so very long, and we have seen how you are. We know you better than you know yourself.” the woman responds.

Rickard snorts then. “What nonsense are you talking about? You could not be keeping an eye on me, unless you work for him, and I know for a fact that you do not work for him. Have never worked for him. So what is this nonsense you are speaking?”

The man speaks then. “You are your grandsire’s descent well and true, just as your father was not. You are strong where your father was weak, you are hard where your father was soft. Some could argue that it is that, that has led to your daughter running off with a prince. For why else would a daughter of House Stark, do something so dishonourable? Unless it was her desperation to find her father’s attention.”

“You do not know my family.” Rickard barks.

“Do we not? We know you, we knew Lyarra, and we know what happened there. The child that you killed, for the thing it would become if allowed to live. Do not pretend with us, my lord. For to pretend is to insult us, and we do not like being insulted.” the man responds.

Rickard looks at the man, notes his muscular frame and then looks at the woman, and sees her holding the man’s arm. “Is that what my father did then? Did he insult you? Did you kill him for that reason then?”

The woman laughs. “Oh no, we did not kill your father. Your father was smart, he knew what needed to be done to appease us. No, your father died because of his own foolish machinations. He was too foolish to realise that doing such a thing would not go down well.”

“What are you speaking of?” Rickard barks. “What machinations?”

“Your father worked far too well with King Jaehaerys, he wanted something more than what the king’s brother was willing to give. Why do you think the wood’s witch came to court? Your father wanted to have the power he felt entitled to.” the man says.

Rickard thinks back to something Lord Walder had said before Rickard had killed him, and he thinks on the things that have happened since Harrenhal, and something clicks in his head. “No, you cannot be serious. My father was many things, but he was not a traitor. He was not.”

“Is it treason if you are replacing one prince with another? King Jaehaerys wanted the throne, your father wanted some power. Is it really so hard to imagine they might have made a deal to make sure that this happened?” the man asks mockingly.

The long nights, his father’s anger, his mother’s nerves. They all make sense now, and Rickard feels something akin to horror run through him then. “You lie.”

The woman laughs then. “Why would we lie Rickard?” that is the first time the woman has used his name, and it unnerves him. “We have nothing to gain from lying to you. And besides, it is something you, yourself have thought of many times, why else would it be coming forward now?”

“What point are you trying to prove?” Rickard demands.

“Point? Who said we were trying to prove a point my lord.” the woman says. “We are merely speaking with you, about the things that we all know have been plaguing you for some time.”

Rickard looks around nervously, his men are looking at him curiously. “Oh do not worry, they know not what we speak of, they hear, but they do not comprehend.” the man says.

Rickard sighs then. “I presume then that there is not a chance that I cannot leave now that I am here.”

“No, there is not a chance of that happening. You sealed your fate when you walked through the door. So we might as well begin talking properly.” the man says.

Rickard sits down then in the chair offered by the woman. He looks at the two of them then and sighs. “So, seeing as I am not leaving here. What more is there that you wish to speak of?”

The man laughs then. “Well first, you can start by addressing us by our names Rickard. It is wrong to not address your elders by their names.”

Rickard sighs then, looks at the man and the woman and says. “Lonnel Snow and Arrana Stark, how have you managed to remain alive for this long? One would have thought that you would have died the moment the green men gave you up for dead.”

“We have survived in the ways that some of the old kings of winter survived. We are a pack, and when the pack dies we shall die as well. But seeing as you refused to die, we remained. And therefore, we shall continue to survive so long as the pack you have created survives.” Lonnel Snow says.

Rickard looks at the man and asks. “How is that possible? I had thought that the magic of this was broken when my grandsire died. How is it then that it remained?”

“Willam was not someone to think beforehand. When he went off to fight the wildlings, he came to me and made me promise not to break the link. I think he knew he was going to die, and as such wanted to make sure his son had the protection that could be given.” Arrana Stark says.

Rickard stares at the woman. “And how have you remained as you are?”

“Through sacrifice. The three eyed crow is not the only one drawing power through the weirwoods. We are as well. And as such we are continuing to draw strength from the woods and continue to thrive.” Lonnel responds.

Rickard looks at the two of them then. “And what of the events that have damaged the family over the years. Have you not gotten involved in them?”

“We have and we have not. When Beron died, I made sure Willam and his brothers were protected, otherwise Serena would have had them murdered.” Lonnel says.

Rickard stares at Lonnel, and then looks at Arrana. “And you were okay with this?”

“I did not want our family to die. I wanted them to grow up and survive.” Arrana says.

Rickard looks at them both, and as he hears the sound of hooves coming from outside he looks at them and asks. “Do you know what is going to happen next?”

“We do, and I am sure you do as well.” Lonnel responds. “And yet, we could not respond to any questions that you might have for them, otherwise that would ruin the plans that all have put in place.”

Rickard sighs then. “And what of the eunuch? Surely you know of him?”

“We do.” Arrana says.

“And what do you make of him?” Rickard asks, despising how desperate his voice is beginning to sound.

“He is someone who might have more plans than you do, and he is a viable risk to the order that you are trying to establish.” Lonnel says.

Rickard looks at the man and says. “And what precisely is this thing that might make the order fall through?”

“Oh we could not tell you, not without making things happen that are not meant to happen. As such, we must say that now is the time for you to leave.” Arrana says.

“Leave?” Rickard asks. “What do you mean leave?”

“Oh, you thought that this was happening alone and separate? I do not think so.” Lonnel responds laughing. “We know what you are like my lord, and as such, we took precautions.”

“What precautions?” Rickard asks, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest.

Before either man or woman can reply, Martyn comes to him and says. “My lord, we have seen men outside the walls.”

“Do they fly banners?” he asks.

“No, my lord, but it seems as though they mean to have their way with us.” Martyn responds.

Rickard looks at the couple before him and growls. “What is this?”

“This is the end for you my lord.” Lonnel says.

“It is time you met the end. The Stranger, the Gods of old have need of you in their service. We have made sure that you join them. All of you.” Arrana says.

“You said my men would be unharmed.” Rickard roars.

The heat begins to grow within the holdfast, and Rickard has a deep sinking feeling in his stomach. His mother was right, the time has come. The end is here, he looks at Martyn and says. “I am sorry Martyn.” his friend merely nods.

“We, are known for many things, and lying is one of them. It has been nice speaking with you, but now it is time for you to die.” the voices say, and Rickard dies screaming as flames engulf the holdfast. 


	8. Lost Souls

**7 th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Grand Maester Pycelle**

It was a worrying thing having Brandon Stark and his companions in King’s Landing. They were part of the Order that was not subject to Lord Tywin’s control or Prince Rhaegar’s control for that matter. Stark had something of his father in him, that relentless determination to find out what was going on within King’s Landing, had come close to undoing some of Pycelle’s schemes, but luckily the eunuch for one reason or another seemed content to prevent the man from getting closer toward anything as well. It was the one thing that they both could agree on, better for Stark to remain in the dark, than for him to discover their plans and plots. Pycelle looks at the members of the small council, looks at Merryweather and hides a laugh, the man is not worth the office he bears, nowhere near worth it. And yet for the time being he serves a particular purpose and for that Pycelle will bear him.

Merryweather speaks then. “What word has there been on the search for Prince Rhaegar? Has there been any sighting of him?”

The eunuch speaks then his voice soft. “It would seem not my lord hand. My little birds have tried desperately hard to find where he might have gone, and yet the last that he is seen is near Harrenhal. There is nothing of him from then onwards.”

Pycelle does not know why but he has the sneaking feeling that there is something the eunuch is hiding, deliberately. Merryweather looks at the eunuch then and asks. “And what was the Prince doing at Harrenhal?”

Pycelle resists the urge to roll his eyes, Merryweather truly is a fool. “I believe he was meeting with Lord Whent my lord hand. They were meeting to discuss something or the other. It is not completely clear what it was they were meeting to discuss, but whatever it was, it was important enough for both Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell to come with the Prince.”

Pycelle hides the nerves he feels about this, he knows somewhat, what the Prince was meeting with Lord Whent about, for Lord Tywin had instructed him to provide the prince with as much assistance as could be provided. He is still not sure on that matter, for what the prince was hoping to achieve, goes against that which Pycelle is supposed to stand for. Merryweather seems confused by this. “Why would Ser Oswell accompany the prince? Ser Arthur I can understand, but Ser Oswell? It does not make sense.”

Pycelle speaks then. “Perhaps Ser Oswell was visiting his brother, after all it had been sometime since the two had met personally. It might have been nothing more than a harmless visit.”

The eunuch looks at him and titters. “Oh, you do wish to believe the best of the Kingsguard knights do you not Grand Maester? Has it not yet crossed your mind that perhaps the knight was there for less personable reasons?”

Pycelle stares at the eunuch trying to work out what angle the man is going from here. When he realises that he cannot, he merely smiles and responds. “Is it wrong to expect the knight of the Kingsguard would merely be doing his duty?”

Before the eunuch can respond, Merryweather is speaking. “Pycelle is right. I do think that we are wrong to question the motive behind Ser Oswell’s visit to Harrenhal. Now, there is another pressing matter as well. What word has come from the riverlands regarding House Frey?”

Pycelle looks at the hand of the king, and then looks at the letters before him. He takes a breath and then says. “It would seem that those that remain from House Frey are trying desperately to repair their castle, though they are short of resources, and good will from their fellow lords. Lord Mallister it appears is making moves to gain more land for himself, as is Lord Hoster. And it seems, House Frey is left without any allies of note within the riverlands.”

“And what of those who they are tied to through marriage? What are those houses doing about House Frey’s plight?” Lord Merryweather asks.

Pycelle looks at the man and responds. “They are doing what they can to ensure that House Frey is being provided for. Though they are limited on the orders of their lord paramounts. It seems that there is a push from within the Lord paramounts to limit aid to House Frey, for reasons known only to themselves.”

The hand of the king is silent a moment, and then asks. “What of Lord Rickard? Has the man responded to the summons? He committed a gross act by slaughtering most of House Frey.”

At this Pycelle shifts slightly. “There has been no response so far from Lord Rickard. It would seem that the man has disappeared, either that or he is on the run. He has enemies within the Riverlands that might well wish to see him harmed.”

The eunuch speaks then. “Now would that be such a shame? We all know that Lord Rickard has been doing something against His Grace the king. It would not be such a loss if the man were to suffer for his hubris.”

Lord Lucerys Velaryon speaks then. “The man controls one of the largest kingdoms within the realm. If he is dead, then his son is Lord of Winterfell, and we all know what Brandon Stark is like. It will not do us good to have him in power.”

The hand nods. “I agree, we must find out where Rickard Stark has gone, and what is to be done with Brandon Stark. Pycelle, what has the king said on that matter?”

Pycelle takes a moment to consider the question, and then responds. “He believes Stark is a threat to the balance within the kingdom and the city. Furthermore, he believes that the time has come for Jon Arryn to answer for some crimes that he has long been suspected of.”

The hand of the king is silent a moment, his face puffing up in a sense of thought. And then the man says. “And has the king given express orders to this level?”

“Yes my lord hand, he has. He spoke with me last night, and ordered the ravens to be sent with much haste. He does not want anything to be delayed.” Pycelle responds calmly.

A long silence follows this and then the hand says. “Very well, send the raven off today itself.” a pause and then. “Now Lord Staunton what word have you had from the city watch regarding those who tried to leave the city?”

Lord Symond Staunton a man who is so far up to kissing the king’s behind, that he might well be afflicted with the kissing disease, takes a moment to think before speaking. “It would seem that those who tried to leave the city without the king’s permission were doing so for one reason, and one reason alone. That is reason being that they wished to get out before the fire started. For some reason they were convinced that a fire was going to be started and they were not sure why exactly, though the pyromancers guild might have had something to do with it.”

“The pyromancers guild? Why would they be involved in something such as that? They are under the king’s sole command, and the king has not given any such orders, as far as I can tell.” Merryweather responds, his voice sounding worried.

Pycelle speaks then. “It is known that these people who fled were not in their right minds. It is very possible that they were indeed fleeing for one reason or another, and thought to merely blame it on the pyromancers.”

“So you think there is no reason to count on their words?” Merryweather asks.

“None at all.” Pycelle responds. “I would merely dismiss it as the testimony of those who are not in their right mind and needing to be taught a severe lesson.”

Merryweather considers this and then nods. “Very well, if there is nothing else that needs to be discussed then the council is adjourned.” he stands then, as does Pycelle and the other members of the small council. Merryweather walks out of the room first, followed closely by Pycelle, and as Pycelle watches Merryweather walk toward his own chambers, he sees the man drink the potion that Pycelle had given him, the potion laced with the bidding juice that makes the man little more than his slave. Merryweather walks on, and Pycelle turns toward the rookery, the three letters in his pockets, he smiles then, knowing that soon enough the Starks will fall, his lady’s revenge will be complete, and his lord’s ascension can begin.

As he walks toward the rookery, he wonders at his lady’s revenge, he does not quite yet understand her deep needed desire to see the Starks fall, and yet from what he has been able to gather, she suffered a grievous insult at the hands of Lord Rickard and perhaps even his father many years ago, and has never quite recovered from that. One thing, he knows for sure, is that he is damned near glad that he is not the subject of her anger, for he is quite sure that he would not be able to survive it. He is good, has had nigh on thirty years to become good at this game, but she, she seems to be possessed of something almost entirely different. Pycelle does not think it would be too much of a stretch to imagine that she could be better than even Lord Tywin at this game.

He comes to the Rookery steps, tired and old, knowing that what happens within the next few moments might well decide the fate of Westeros in its entirety, he is not sure how he feels about that, but he does know that things must improve under his prince and his lord. Aerys has given into the madness that was always lurking beyond the shadows, even before Pycelle gave him the juice of Meraxes, the king was slipping into madness, and the time of destruction was coming. Pycelle hopes that by doing the things that he is doing, he can prevent this. For he knows only bad can come from the time of destruction, for all of them. Stark did not realise that, of course he did not, so caught up in his own dreams of glory, how could he?

The son seems to be much the same, if what Pycelle’s spies have been telling him. Ruthless determination, that is one thing that these Starks seem to share, and it will be that which will get them killed. Pycelle laughs at the thought, his breath coming out rather short, he is not as young as he used to be, and the steps toward the Rookery are not good on his health. As he walks up toward the top, where the ravens are, he thinks on what he knows of Jon Arryn. The man has a very suspicious past, something about the man makes even Pycelle’s father seem normal, and that is saying something. Raised during a dark time for House Arryn, when it seemed they would lose almost everything to the dragons, it seems the man has done almost anything to preserve his power. Pycelle can commend him for that, and yet there is something about him that is nagging Pycelle at the back of his mind. He is not sure what, but there is something there, that makes him wonder.

Finally at the top of the stairs, Pycelle takes a moment to breathe and then he pulls out the letter for the Vale, attaching it to the raven meant for the Eyrie, he then allows the bird to fly, watching it go with something akin to pleasure filling him. He takes the second letter out then, and attaches it to a raven and watches it fly, and then the third, well the third he keeps in the place where he knows it will only be found by the person it is meant for. That done, he takes a breath and then walks back down the stairs, he looks around and sees no one in sight, sighing with relief he continues walking, and just as he is about to walk toward Maegor’s Holdfast he hears a voice. Turning he sees Brandon Stark approaching him with members of the order. “Maester Pycelle, you are under arrest for treason.”


	9. Order

**7 th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Knight Commander Brandon Stark**

Pycelle had been taken prisoner, it had taken time but eventually Brandon had managed to find enough information to justify an arrest warrant being issued and used. Being the second in command within the order, the first in command with his father not in the city came with its benefits. Having the master of laws on his side also came with its benefits. They had found Pycelle coming back from the rookery, and though they had been too late to stop the ravens he had sent out, they had managed to prevent him from ordering the supposed coup Brandon had been hearing about. And now, well now was the time for them to begin questioning the little grey rat about what had been going on within King’s Landing for the past six years.

Brandon looks at the man before him, Pycelle had been kept in a room near the order’s quarters, away from anyone and anything, whilst members of the order had raided his rooms and had found all kinds of things. Brandon looks at the man and then says. “Your game is up Pycelle. The treason you have committed has been found and exposed. And soon enough you will die.”

The man laughs then. “Treason? What treason?”

Brandon advances forward anger making him want to hit the man, to wipe the smug smile off of his face. Instead he pulls out the letters from his pocket, and shows them to the man. “These letters to Tywin Lannister and from the man. What would you call the words written in them if not treason?”

Pycelle laughs once more. “I’d call them common sense. The king is mad. So very mad.”

“And we have you to thank for that Pycelle.” Brandon says. “You have been poisoning him since Duskendale. Why?”

The man looks at him and says. “I do not know what you mean, and I resent your implications.”

Brandon looks at the man. “Do you deny the fact that you have been corresponding with Tywin Lannister about something that would be tantamount to treason?”

“That depends on who you ask.” Pycelle responds smugly. “Either I am a traitor or I am a man doing what needs to be done to save the world and the kingdoms from the machinations of a mad man.”

Brandon feels anger grow within him. “And so, what do you think Pycelle? Are you a traitor or a hero?”

“I am a servant of the true heroes of the kingdoms. Men who are far better than you or your father.” Pycelle responds.

“What do you mean by that Pycelle? I do not have time for your riddles, speak now, or I will cut your tongue out.” Brandon threatens.

That only causes the man to laugh even more. “My, my, not patient at all. Your father would be disappointed. A Knight Major must have patience, is that not what your father is fond of saying?”

Brandon feels something within him tighten in anger at the man’s words. “What do you know of my father?” he asks bitingly.

Pycelle smiles then. “More than would make you comfortable. I know the things your father did for King Aerys, things that go against what he taught you.”

Brandon hand tightens into a fist. Through gritted teeth he says. “I am old enough to know that my father is a person just like me. And that sometimes he does things differently to what he means. It does not make him less of a person. But you… you, you are the ultimate rat.”

A laugh from the maester. “Ah, so we are using that term now are we? Tell me, what do you think makes me a rat?”

Brandon stares at the man, not sure if he is being serious, but ultimately he says. “You swore a vow, a vow to obey the man you served. That is the king, not Tywin Lannister and not Rhaegar Targaryen that is King Aerys. You have broken that vow many times during your time as hand. Summerhall, King Jaehaerys death, Duskendale, all of them bear your mark. Tell me why you did it?”

Pycelle stares at him. “You think Summerhall was me? Gods boy, how much of a fool are you?”

Brandon looks at him surprised by this change in turn. “And what makes you exclaim such a thing Pycelle?”

“I was newly made Grand Maester when Summerhall happened, King Aegon was a man I respected. I had no reason to cause that tragedy. However, I do know who caused that. If you would like to know.” the rat responds. The bait is there, dangling before him.

Brandon remembers what his father had said about Pycelle to him once. _“The man dangles honeyed words on a poisoned tongue. Be careful of how you think of him.”_ He keeps that thought in mind now when he looks at the man and then says. “And who is that?”

“The king you support so whole heartedly, and his father. They wanted the throne for themselves, and were not sure they would get it, Prince Duncan and his wife did not have children, but Prince Duncan’s wife was dying, the prince could have remarried, and there was talk that he was going to. Your king and his father did not want that. So they had them killed.” Pycelle says.

Brandon looks at the man, shock running through him. “You are lying.” he accuses.

“What reason would I have to lie? If you look through my letters and writings you will find the proof you seek. And regardless there is always Lucerys Velaryon to question as well, he was involved in the plot.” Pycelle says. He laughs then for Brandon feels something akin to anger run through him. “Unless the man has already gone and left.”

“So you allowed this to happen? You did not go to your king as you were sworn to?” Brandon asks.

“It was not my place.” Pycelle responds. “I am a rat, not a dragon.”

Brandon considers this, it is a troubling development, and something that he will need to check out himself once he is done questioning this piece of filth. He takes a breath and then looks at the man once more. “So then, you are not responsible for the deaths at Summerhall. What of King Jaehaerys and Duskendale? What is your argument in defence of yourself there? All we have, suggests you were in league with Lord Tywin for those two things.”

The maester looks at him. “I suppose it makes no difference now, you will kill me either way. Yes, King Jaehaerys died at my hand. He was always sick the king, and as such, it did not take much for him to be pushed over that line. It was a relief, he was a burden on the realm and on the health of my helpers.”

“And Duskendale? What happened there?” Brandon prompts.

The maester laughs. “So impatient you are. Duskendale, well to explain Duskendale, one must needs first explain the years leading to Duskendale.”  The man wets his lips and then continues. “Lord Tywin is a great man, a great lord and leader. Far better than Aerys, Aerys was always looking for some reason to not do his work. Some reason to put his duty off. Therefore, it increasingly fell to Lord Tywin to do the work, and instead of thanking him, Aerys began to begrudge him that. Prince Rhaegar was someone who appreciated Lord Tywin’s work and approached him about something to do with the king. Lord Darklyn was a friend of the Prince’s having squired together when they were young. It was on the Prince’s order that Darklyn rebelled, Aerys was talked into leading the host and was captured. He was supposed to die there, but Selmy got in the way. He always got in the way.”

Brandon feels something within his gut clench then. “So you set the king up to fall? You wanted him to die at Duskendale? Why? King Aerys was not mad, and I do not think he became mad either. Why did you want him gone?”

Pycelle looks at him then and laughs. “Why does anyone ever want the king dead? He was a fool, and someone who was in the way. He needed to be removed for things to progress beyond what they were at, at that time.”

“And when he did not die at Duskendale, you decided to take matters into your own hands? Is that what happened?” Brandon asks feeling disgusted.

“Yes. Neither my lord, nor my prince were willing to commit the act themselves, therefore I had to take it into my own hands. King Aerys was still somewhat redeemable after Duskendale, I had to make sure he was not. And so I began.” Pycelle says.

Brandon feels the disgust within him rise. “And Prince Rhaegar was happy for you to do this to his own father?”

Pycelle snorts then. “Prince Rhaegar had never cared for his father, his father was a block in his way who needed to be removed. And so I was doing him a favour.”

Feeling the moment approaching, Brandon moves forward to Pycelle and says softly. “And what have you been using to keep the king mad Pycelle?”

“Now, now. I cannot tell you that. That would make me a traitor to my chosen king.” Pycelle responds laughingly.

“Do I need to force the information out of you old man?” Brandon asks menacingly.

“You can try, but I learned a long time ago, that hiding my words was best.” Pycelle says mockingly.

Brandon feels his anger grow, white hot within him. He picks the old man up by the scruff of the neck and growls. “You are going to tell me old man.”

“Or what? What will you do? Kill me, and the knowledge is lost.” Pycelle retorts.

Brandon tightens his grip on the old man, anger coursing through him. “There are other maesters in the capital old man, I would not be so certain of your survival.”

“And do you think those maesters would tell you the truth?” Pycelle asks mockingly. “Who do you think they learned their craft from? Who do you think their loyalty is to?”

As he thinks on this, Brandon feels anger grow within him. “They will do their duty to their king, or they shall be removed from their positions within the red keep. Your lord and prince are not here to protect you.”

Pycelle laughs then. Spittle falling from his mouth. “Ah but there is the thing. The council is against you, you have not attended one meeting, and now you are falling through your sword. How will you get them to side with you?”

Brandon hesitates a moment then. He looks at the old man, and then says. “You are coming with me.” he puts the man down on the ground and then walks from the room, the old man tottering after him. Brandon looks at Elbert and Ethan who look confused to see him with Pycelle. “We are going to the council chamber, bring the men.” Brandon barks, his mind whirring into action.

As they walk to the council chamber, some sixty men come into line behind him, all bearing the arms of the order, his heart is hammering in his chest. Brandon knows what happens now will be important for the rest of time. There are no members of the Kingsguard outside the chamber, and he is thankful for that, he does not want a fight now. He barges into the room, looks at the members and says. “You are all to come with me. Any who resist will be killed.”

To show how serious he is, Brandon drags Pycelle in front of him, presses a dagger against the man’s throat and then slits it. As the man falls to the ground he says aloud. “I am a member of the order, and we have our own maesters Pycelle.”


	10. Exploration of the Human

**7 th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Owen Merryweather**

Owen could not believe what he had seen. Brandon Stark had done something no man had dared do since Aegon the second of his name had fed the grand maester of the time to his dragon. Pycelle’s body had lain there on the floor blood pooling out from him, and Owen had looked at it, had stared at it, and had not known what to think. Stark had done something which Owen had only ever dreamed of doing. Killing the Grand Maester and removing Tywin Lannister’s last link to the capital. And now there it was, the deed had been done. Stark though had not stopped there, he had had them all removed from the small council chamber and placed under arrest. Owen was not sure why, but he knew there were members of the Order of the Dragon standing guard outside his room and he had not been allowed to leave since Pycelle had been slain, he did not know how much time had passed and he was scared, very, very scared.

The door to his room opens and Stark walks in, looking as if he is some sort of god come from the heavens to pass judgement. Owen has heard it said that Stark’s grandfather cast a similar shadow once many years ago, and now as he looks at Stark, he can see the power within the man’s gaze, and he feels small. “My lord hand,” Stark begins. “I trust you are feeling well. And that you know why Maester Pycelle had to be killed?”

Owen looks at the man and then shakes his head. “I do not know Knight Commander. It came as a great shock to me. Though that is not something I mourn, the passing of Pycelle.”

Stark looks at him intrigued then. “And why is that?”

Owen looks at Stark and sees something akin to a piercing gaze looking at him. He swallows and then responds. “Pycelle was not a true maester, I have for a long time felt he was doing things that were not in the crown’s best interest. I felt that perhaps the time was right to remove him from office.”

Stark looks at him once more. “You thought it was the right time to remove him, and yet you did not act? Why?”

“Sorry? I am not sure I understand.” Owen stammers in response.

“You said you thought now was the right time to remove Pycelle, and yet you had not acted by the time that I killed him. Why?” Stark asks.

Owen senses that this might well be a trap, but he says. “I did not have the support, nor the backing of the order. I did not have the resources nor the contacts that you or someone like Varys has. I felt threatened.”

Stark snorts then. “And why, pray tell did you not come to me and ask? Why remain in the shadows throughout all of this? If you knew something was going on, it was and it is in your duty as Hand of the King to come and seek help.”

“And should help not be provided to me?” Owen retorts. “I am the hand of the king after all, does that mean I must seek help?”

Stark looks at him with something akin to disgust. “You were named hand to make Tywin Lannister feel angry and rejected. After Harrenhal, and what have you done since being named hand? Nothing. The king has gone mad, completely mad under your time as hand, and I am inclined to think that you might have had a hand in it.”

Owen bristles at the insinuation. “How dare you suggest such a thing! Why would I do something like that?”

“Because you are a grasping man, someone who wishes for power, and yet does not know how to obtain it. You are a man who wishes to be more than he is, and as such will not hesitate to achieve your aims, no matter the consequences. That is why. Now tell me, why did you not come to me for help?” Stark responds bluntly.

Owen feels as if he is being cornered, as if he is a lamb being chased by a lion, though the lion is not here. “I did not know if I could trust you. The Order rejected me, and I did not know if I could be sure of your loyalties.”

Stark looks at him then. “Ah yes, the farce that was the tourney of Storm’s End. Four years ago was it not? When you proposed to my father that he bring you into the order, despite the fact we were not there on official business. Your foolishness nearly cost us everything.”

Owen feels anger grow within him then. “How was I supposed to know the Knight Major was working for the king under another purpose? I had not been told, no one thought to warn me. You all wanted me to look the fool!”

Stark looks considerate then. “Aye, we did not know what to make of you then. But I know now that you were not right for the order. There was far too much wrong with you, and not enough that could recommend you for what we were planning.”

“And what was it you were planning Stark?” Owen asks. “Steffon Baratheon died after the tourney, and soon enough the plans you were working on unravelled did they not?”

Stark looks at him through narrowed eyes. “What are you talking about Merryweather?”

“Oh do not give me that nonsense. You know full well what I am talking about. Steffon Baratheon was part of your father’s alliance, he was just as much a traitor to the king as your father was, and Lord Tywin is.” Owen says.

It appears that Stark does not like that accusation. “What are you talking about?” he growls. “My father has been nothing but loyal to the king since the time of his grace’s coronation. Unlike your father.”

Owen gasps then. “What?”

Stark grins at him then. “Oh? You thought we did not know? Ah but we do know, we know all about Lord Orton’s little troubles and his dalliances with the Blackfyres.”

“I…I do not know what you are talking about.” Owen stammers.

Stark laughs the sound is infuriating for Owen. “Oh, come now Owen, we do not need to play this game again. Simply acknowledge that you know what I am talking about and we can move onto something else. Unless you want me to tell everyone else what I know?”

Owen feels something sharp and precise, fear, it has to be fear, running through him. “What do you mean? What do you know?”

Stark laughs once more, a rabid sound, a wolf closing in on its prey. “I know very well that your father was involved with the Blackfyres during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. I know very well that you are trying to find the last Blackfyres, and that you might well be why Lord Steffon never made it back.”

“That is preposterous. Where is your proof?” Owen sputters.

Stark grins. “My proof? My proof is within your rooms. I have found many things within these rooms Lord Owen. I know some of your deepest darkest secrets, and the fact that most of your household were so willing to talk to me, well, that condemns you further.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” Owen asks. “Your father is not here, and the king is paralysed with madness. You do not have the power to reverse what Pycelle has done.”

“What makes you believe that my lord?” Stark asks. “Pycelle might have been the grand maester, but as I said in the council chamber, the order has its own resources, its own way of getting things done. I have people working on reversing what was done to the king right now.”

“And you think that will be successful?” Owen asks incredulously. “You think that will change anything? That it will make a difference to anything? The king is mad, has always been mad. Leave it be.”

Stark grimaces then. “And that is the problem with you Merryweather, you never known when you are simply incriminating yourself. The king was never mad, he was forced into being mad. And when this madness is reversed, there will be a reckoning for all those who did him wrong. You have a choice, give up those who are conspiring against him, and you might just find yourself spared, if you do not, then you may suffer through your fate.”

“Who are you to make these offers? You are not the Knight Major, you are not the King and you are not a prince of the blood. You do not speak with the king’s voice. You are not a Kingsguard. You have no power over me. I do not have to listen to anything you say.” Owen replies indignantly.

Stark smirks then. “Ah, but you do. If you wish to survive and for your children and their children to know anything of the world here, you will listen to me, and you will do as I say. For if you do not, I am afraid the king will be delivering you to the gods beforehand.”

“So you are threatening me?” Owen asks surprised. “That is not very honourable. Does that not go against the code of the Order?”

Stark laughs. “Oh come now my lord we are both men here, not boys. Honour does not come into something like this. I am asking you make a common sense decision here. The Blackfyres stand no chance of claiming the throne. Now tell me what you know or you will suffer.”

Owen considers this for a long moment and then asks. “I have no choice really now do I?”

Stark nods. “Not if you are serious about living and wanting your grandson to see the world truly. Now, what is your decision?”

Owen sighs then. “I shall tell you what I know my lord. But first I want a promise from you.”

He hears Stark laugh then. “No promises. First tell me what you know and then I shall consider promising you anything…traitor.”

The jibe stings, but he keeps it to himself and says. “Very well. I will start with what I know.” he pauses a moment, then continues. “There is something going on within the Reach. The Osgreys and Peakes are planning something, I am not sure what, but I know that they are planning it for the Blackfyres.”

“And is Lord Tywin involved in this? He is cousins with the Osgreys after all.” Stark enquires.

“I do not think so no. Tywin Lannister is more concerned with Prince Rhaegar and his plans with him. As for the Blackfyres, there are those within the reach working independently of the Osgreys, they are working for their own gains. The Costaynes, the Appletons, even a branch of House Tyrell, all are working for bringing the Blackfyres into some sense of power within Westeros.” Owen responds.

“Are they fighting for a Blackfyre through the female line, or a male? The last of the male line Blackfyres died with Maelys the Monstrous. Everyone knows that.” Stark says.

Owen laughs then. “A lie, a lie told to make the fighting stop. The Monstrous might have claimed the throne for himself, but he was never fighting for himself. He was fighting for the children whose father he had slain to claim commandership of the Golden Company. A boy and a girl. They were separated after the war and sent to different places.”

Stark looks shocked at this and Owen laughs. “I am surprised that you do not know. Your father was known for spending much time with the king discussing things, I would have thought he would have told you this.”

Stark stares at him and then says. “And what of the Golden Company?”

“They are there working under the command of someone in Pentos, pushing for their power to be returned. There is someone else who is working for them here as well.” Owen says.

Brandon Stark looks at him and says. “Very well, thank you very much.”

“Wait do you not want to know who is working for them here?” Owen asks pleadingly.

Stark walks up to him, pulling out a knife and whispering. “I do not need to hear anymore, from the mouth of a traitor.” The knife presses in, and Owen wonders at that.


	11. Mad King

**7 th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Aerys II Targaryen**

Everything had become a blur, he could not remember clearly what had happened for the past six years let alone the past two days. It was as if a fog had been lifted from his mind, he no longer drank the potion Pycelle had given him. Pycelle, that mad man who had wanted him to do so many things that now he thought about it did not make sense, they did not sit well with him. He wondered at it all, wondered what had become of those things that were to be done, and whether or not the things he had wanted struck from the list had been removed. Aerys did not know what had happened to him, but there was something within him that made him feel as if he were drowning and coming back for air, as if he were clean and then suddenly he was filled with poison once more. It was a terrifying thought, and he wondered at it. He had summoned Brandon Stark to King’s Landing he remembered that much and as such, as he looked at the man before him now, he wondered.

“Tell me Brandon, what is it that you are doing here?” Aerys asks.

If he is surprised by the question, Stark does not show it, instead he responds. “I am here to seek the truth and to find my sister Your Grace.”

Aerys thinks on this, images flash before his mind and he is not sure what they are. “Your sister Rickard’s Lyanna? What happened to her?”

Stark once more looks surprised and then he says. “She was taken by your son Prince Rhaegar. I do not know where she has gone.”

“Why would my son take your sister? If he wanted her, he could have spoken to me.” Aerys responds.

He sees something flash across Stark’s face, but then it is gone within a moment. Stark seems to be hesitating over what to say and then eventually he speaks. “He took her to fulfil the prophecy Your Grace. From what I have gathered it seems Prince Rhaegar thinks he is doing something right by taking my sister.”

Aerys looks at Brandon Stark, his mind whirring, the prophecy, and the thing that led to his father forcing he and Rhaella into marrying. He loves his sister, but he does not know if he loves her the way Lord Rickard loved his Lyarra, he wonders at that. He has only known Rhaella truly, and now he thinks on the reason behind their marriage and he sighs. “The prophecy of the Prince that Was Promised is that what you speak of?”

“Yes Your Grace. My queries have led me to believe that Prince Rhaegar has done many things to try and fulfil this prophecy. It would seem he has been planning to do this for a long time.” Brandon Stark responds.

Aerys does not know whether he should cry or laugh, and so he decides to laugh then. “Ah, the prophecy my father and mother were so obsessed with. The desire to make things better for the family without using their brains. It is strange how they have always used that as the excuse for their marriage. I wonder, what madness has possessed my son?”

That last is not a question that demands an answer, but Stark speaks all the same. “I think, if I might say so Your Grace?” Stark pauses and Aerys gives the man a nod of assent. “I think that Prince Rhaegar is being led through some dark paths on his desire to achieve the prophecy. I think there are things that he is doing that might not make sense within the wider context of things. And there are things within his own circle of advisors that is deeply disturbing.”

Aerys looks at Stark then interested. “What do you mean?”

Stark hesitates and then asks. “How much do you remember of the past few years Your Grace?”

Aerys laughs once more. “I remember things, and I do not know if I am dreaming them, or if they actually happened. I remember Duskendale and I remember what happened within Duskendale, I remember learning things within Duskendale that I did not want to know. I remember hearing things I did not want to hear.”

“And after Duskendale?” Stark asks.

“After Duskendale there is darkness, and then there are memories. There is fear, and there is grief.” the memory of a ship sinking into the ether hits him. “Steffon!” he cries out. “Steffon died, he died on a duty from me. He died doing what I had asked of him!”

“He died serving his king.” Brandon Stark says.

Aerys looks at Stark and says. “He died because I wanted to prove to Tywin that I did not need him. That I could rely on Steffon, my own flesh and blood. Steffon died, and then there was only Tywin left. I remember meeting with your father about the order and discussing the search.”

Stark’s face changes then. “My father is dead Your Grace.”

That hits Aerys like a hammer, he had always liked Rickard Stark. “How?” he asks.

Brandon Stark looks as if he himself is not sure about the how, and that worries him. “I do not know my king. All I know is that things were falling about within the riverlands, and my father might well have got caught up within this.”

Aerys considers this and then says. “I am sorry for your loss. Lord Rickard was a good man. And a very capable Knight Major.” He hesitates for a moment, memories that he is not sure are his or if they belong to someone else  come forth then and he thinks of what this man has supposedly done for him and his family, and he speaks once more. “I would name you as Knight Major of Order of the Dragon my lord Stark.”

“I am honoured Your Grace.” Stark responds.

Aerys nods, looking at Stark who has kept his head bowed. “What happened to Pycelle and Merryweather? Why are they not attending me?”

Stark looks at him and then says grimly. “They were committing treason. Pycelle was acting on Tywin Lannister’s orders and is responsible for the disparity in your memory Sire, whilst Merryweather, he was working for another faction.”

Aerys feels anger grow within him then, he had always suspected Pycelle of being Tywin’s dog, but Merryweather, now that is a surprise. “Who was he serving? Who was that witless oath serving?” he demands.

Stark hesitates a moment and then says. “He claimed he was serving the Blackfyres Your Grace.”

Aerys feels a stab of pain then, the old threat to his family. The thing Steffon had died for. He looks at Stark and sees something akin to disbelief on his face. “You do not believe him?”

“The Blackfyres died with Maelys the Monstrous, I think Merryweather was lying but saying something that would keep me from killing him.” Stark responds.

“Something you did regardless.” Aerys says with approval, he does not tolerate traitors. “And whom do you think Merryweather was actually serving if not the Blackfyres?”

Stark looks uncertain then. “That is the thing Sire. I am not sure.”

Aerys thinks on all that happened before the blackness came and engulfed him. He thinks of discussions with Steffon, and with his wife, and the desire to end a threat once and for all. Sighing he looks at Stark and asks. “How much do you know of the Golden Company Stark?”

Brandon Stark looks surprised then but responds all the same. “I know it was founded by Bittersteel in an attempt to prevent support for the Blackfyres from disappearing, and I know that in time the Blackfyres came to control it. I know Maelys Blackfyre killed his cousin Daemon to take command.”

Aerys holds up a hand then. “Maelys was never a Blackfyre. That was a lie that was told to make him seem more of a threat.”

“What do you mean Sire?” Stark asks.

The secrets he has kept for so long hidden within his own mind come forth now, and he chooses to speak of the decision he is not so haunted by. “The Blackfyres were weakened after the third rebellion, Haegon Blackfyre was seen as the best hope the Blackfyres had had since his father.  There was seventeen years between the third and fourth rebellions, and that was because the Blackfyres were fighting themselves. Aenys Blackfyre tried to claim the throne as a member of the Blackfyre dynasty, and tried to make good on his claims. He nearly succeeded and would have had it not been for Bloodraven. Daemon Blackfyre, Haegon’s son fought something fierce and nearly broke through but suffered. Many thought the Blackfyres would end there, but they began looking elsewhere for their spoils not to Westeros. Maelys Blackfyre was not a Blackfyre by birth but by choice. I think he was a descendant of Bittersteel. Regardless, there were Blackfyres still alive, it suited them and us to make it seem they were dead.”

The weight is lifting from his chest then. “Why though Sire?” Stark asks. “Was there not a risk they could come back?”

“After the fourth rebellion, my grandsire agreed to a peace. But he never had the chance to fully get on with it, for there were other things he needed to do. And so, when the time came, I meant to ensure it continued. I sent Steffon to find the Blackfyres, to ensure one was married to Rhaegar, the marrying of the two lines to ensure security. He did not find them, they had betrayed me. And now, well now I think Merryweather was right.” Aerys says his heart heavy.

Stark looks stunned. “So there are Blackfyres out there, waiting to come back?”

Aerys nods slowly, pain returning to his head. “It would seem so Knight Major. And I am not sure whether this can be stopped.”

“Then surely we should speak to the lords and make sure they know to prepare?” Stark asks.

Aerys shakes his head. “No, we do not know who to trust. What word has there been on Tywin? Have you found out where he is storing his treacherous self?” there is still hatred for the man there and what he did to Rhaella.

Stark looks uncertain for a moment and then says. “Pycelle is dead, that is the man’s main eyes within the capital removed for the time being Sire. Whether or not it is enough I do not know.”

Aerys remains seated on the chair, looking at Stark feeling the beard against him, his hair is ruffled and he sighs. “It is strange, for so long my son was my greatest hope, and then somewhere we broke off and became different people. He was not enough for me, and I was not enough for him. We became like my father and I. I thought that would never happen. Tell me Brandon, what happened at Harrenhal between my son and your sister, was there anything more?”

Stark seems to consider the question, and then he responds. “I do not know. Lyanna said she had not spoken with the prince, but that he had done something for her. I did not understand how that worked. But I think there must have been some form of contact before now.”

Aerys nods then. “Very well, tell me what, of the other members of the order? Are they working hard to restore the kingdoms?”

“Yes Sire, very hard.” Stark responds.

“Good.” Aerys responds.

There is a knock on the door, and Aerys calls for whoever it is to come in, Ser Gerold the hulking monster Lord Commander walks and bows low before speaking in that deep voice of his. “An army has been spotted coming toward King’s Landing Sire.”

Aerys feels panic flying within him, he sees Stark look at him and then says. “Tell Connington to muster the men, it is time we dealt with this threat.”


	12. For Whom The Bell Tolls

**7 th Month of 282 A.C. Riverlands**

**Eddard Stark**

Grief was a shroud hanging over him, it was his constant companion. It was with him when he woke, it was with him when he went to sleep. Grief was his shadow, and he hated that. Guilt was there as well, guilt that he could not have been there when the news had come. He wondered why Brandon had not spoken with him, wondered why Brandon had gone off on his own, and he had allowed Ned to return to the Vale. Now father and Brandon were dead, gone, buried, and killed by the mad king. Anger grew inside of him, he would get revenge and he would find Lyanna. The banners had been called, Lord Hoster had agreed to allow Ned to come south, not marry Lady Catelyn who was heavily pregnant with Brandon’s child, but to ally in a war against the throne. Ned was deeply nervous, so very nervous. War had been fought in the Stormlands, Robert was injured and being pursued. Ned looks at the men in the room with him, the war council.

Jon speaks. “We are facing a dangerous foe. Robert is injured, that is what our scouts say, and the reports are painting a bleak picture, unless we get there in time. Lord Hoster how soon might we hear back from your brother?”

Lord Hoster looks at Jon then and responds. “We shall be hearing back from him quite soon I think. I do not think it would take Brynden too long to deal with those fighting for the Targaryens.”

“Good, that is very good.” Jon says his voice soft. Ned looks at his mentor and wonders at that, there has been something odd about Jon recently, ever since he handed Ned that raven had come declaring his brother and father’s deaths. His mentor looks at him then and says. “And what of you Ned, how are the northmen faring?”

Ned is surprised by the question but replies all the same. “They are ready and eager for war my lord. They know what their role will be when the fighting begins.”

“Good. It should be Lord Connington leading the army. The Tyrells are I believe laying siege to Storm’s End, alongside most of their bannermen. As such Robert will be struggling to gain men from those that might have served him.” Jon responds.

Ned looks at Jon and asks. “Are they going to be getting men from elsewhere? The Targaryens I mean?”

His mentor looks at him and responds. “It is most likely. Connington will lead as hand of the king for the time being, and until there is someone to replace your father the main forces shall be kept within King’s Landing.”

Ned is surprised by the turn of this conversation. “Replace my father?” he asks. “Replace my father in what?”

Arryn looks at him surprised, as does Hoster. “You do not know?”

“Know what my lord?” Ned asks.

“You did not know that your father and the king were good friends?” Hoster asks.

“They were?” Ned asks surprised.

“Do you know of the Order of the Dragon?” Hoster asks.

Ned looks at Jon then, wondering what is going on. Jon does not respond though he merely keeps his face blank, leaving Ned trapped. “I had heard a rumour about something like that being set up when King Aegon the first was king, but not now, why?”

Before Hoster can respond, Jon speaks. “It is not relevant now, not for this war.” the man gives a rather pointed look toward the Lord of Riverrun then, before turning back to Ned. “Tell me Ned which men do you think would be good with leading the assault in the first wave?”

Ned is surprised by the change in conversation. He considers the question and then responds. “I believe that Lord Umber might well wish for the first wave of attack, as might Denys. He has been hungry for action.”

His mentor looks at him with some concentration then, to the extent that Ned begins to feel slightly discomfited by it. Eventually Jon says. “Very well, let us send them into the first wave. And what of the second? Lord Hoster do you have any thoughts on that matter?”

Before Lord Hoster can speak, there is a knock on the door and Ser Desmond Grell who had been off fighting with Ser Brynden walks in, covered in blood and shaking. “My liege,” the man says falling down onto his knees. “I am sorry my liege, I tried everything I could but they were too strong and he would not move.”

Lord Hoster looks at the man surprised. “What are you speaking of Desmond?”

The man looks at Lord Hoster with haunted eyes, and then turns his attention to Ned. “I could not stop it. They came from out of nowhere, they came with fire and steel and wind. A black hound and the Targaryen men, they fought us and they killed Ser Brynden.”

Ned feels something akin to shock run through him, Ser Brynden dead? How is that possible, it could not be could it? Lord Hoster speaks then. “You are sure Brynden is dead?”

Grell turns back to look at his liege lord and nods. “Yes my lord, I am quite sure. He died before my eyes.”

“How were you spared?” Ned asks.

Grell looks at him then and whispers. “The black hound did not wish me dead, wished for me to return here and to give a message.”

“And what message was that?” Lord Hoster asks.

The knight looks between the three men and then says. “The darkness is rising, be alert for false friends.”

Ned sees Hoster and Jon exchange a look, and he is not sure what that means, or why it makes him feel so nervous. “What is it?”

It is Jon who looks at him then. “We must leave now. Robert is in grave danger.” With that he walks from the room dressed in armour.

Ned follows and in the rush that comes forgets to say goodbye to his goodsister that hangs heavy in his heart as he mounts his horse, and spurs his men on. The fighting is going to begin soon enough, they force march their men and their horses toward the Stoney Sept, where it is said Robert has been hiding- how unlike him- and when they arrive the fighting has begun. Ned feels his heart hammering within his chest, but he watches the first wave go into the city, and then he waits, and then when the time is right, he draws his sword and roars.

There is fierce fighting within the town, the bells are ringing, and those damned bells. The fight begins, Ned draws his sword, his heart hammering, blood pumping through his veins, and he swings his sword, acting as if he might fall without it there to anchor him in. He cuts through the chords holding the resistance within his body apart and begins once more. There are men coming toward him, he does not know where they come from, or who they fight for, but he raises his sword and cuts through them. The bells are tolling somewhere, within the town, he does not quite know where. Somewhere within the town Robert is doing something, what he is doing Ned does not know, but he is sure he will not like it. He takes a breath, and then pushes onward.

More men are coming toward him, his breath is coming out in short ragged bursts, pushing down on him, and it is coming from somewhere, the deep seeded doubt that is always nagging, always pulsating through him. Ned has never know where it has come from, but it has always been there, ever since he was a child, there had been something that had made him feel as though he was  the lesser one, the lesser brother, the lesser everything. Ned fights that feeling now more so than ever, fighting has always been Brandon’s forte, his brother long dead now. Gods it is still painful, the anger grows as well, and men come and men die. Through it all, his guards are there fighting alongside him, pushing through the narrow streets, bells chime and ring.

Out of nowhere, Robert is there, dressed in armour that makes him seem like a god, Ned mounted atop his horse watches in awe as his friend and brother in arms coming barrelling out of a tavern, a war hammer in hand. Ned watches as if time has gone still, his friend swings his hammer, through one man and then another. Something changes then, Robert is fighting far too quickly, is that a girl trailing out? Ned does not know, but he does not care, his friend is there alive and fighting. Ned pulls himself out of his reverie, and barks commands, and the fighting continues. His sword is red, all so red, one could be forgiven for thinking that his sword was naturally this colour.

Gods his arms hurt, his body hurts, and men are still coming near him, he has lost sight of Robert, of Jon, of Hoster, but he sees Denys, fighting the hand of the king in single combat, he watches transfixed as his friend falls before Connington, and dies a death, the redness of the road becoming one with the redness on Connington’s sword. Anger, the emotion that has become his friend over the time since learning of his father and brother’s deaths comes strongly then. Roaring, he charges at Connington ignoring the men before him, he charges, his horse falls, and he moves out of the way, avoiding being crushed, and rolls and then leaps and moves toward Connington.

Ned moves toward the man, his sword sweating, he is sweating, Connington moves toward him. Connington swings, Ned moves back, Ned moves forward and swings Connington moves backward. Ned follows swinging his sword all the while, determined to end the man who has taken another one of his friends. Connington moves backward, and forward, and backward and forward, Ned grows angry, he ducks and parries, and then when he senses an opening he lunges. Connington is weak, Denys had fought him long and hard. Ned makes full use of that, swinging his sword and feinting to the left and to the right. Connington makes a move to the side stabbing at Ned’s side, Ned winces, but then moves backward, luring Connington into a trap. Connington dutifully follows, and Ned, Ned does not know what makes him do this, but he swings his sword wildly, in a move he had seen Brandon use long ago, he swings and swings, until blood spatters his face and there is a hand and a nose somewhere near him. He stands there breathing heavily, Connington lies in pieces before him. He roars for his men and then they continue.

He takes a moment to assess the situation, finds himself tired, and weary, not caring in the slightest, he advances on foot, determined to make the Targaryen men and soldiers pay for their wrongs done to him and his family. Lyanna’s face filters before his mind, and as such anger fills him, somewhere she is somewhere, and he must find her. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he continues forward, pushing himself long and hard. There are men who are fought and slain, and there are men who escape. Somewhere, there is something happening somewhere, there always is. A desperation seizes him, the words Grell had whispered in the room come back, haunting him, he stands for a moment paralysed, unable to move, a black hound, there was one person who flew a black hound, who had a black hound, and they were dead. What could this mean, what could it mean? A black hound? It did not make sense, and then suddenly he hears a howl, a bone chilling howl, and he whispers one word, and one word alone. 


	13. Restless Dreams

**9 th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Knight Major Brandon Stark**

His father was dead, gone, long gone, Brandon did not know how he felt, but there was anger within him, anger and rage. He wanted to find the people who had had his father killed and have them tortured, he wanted… gods he wanted so many things. The news had come, and he had not believed and then his father badge, the thing he had treasured so badly, Brandon remembers hearing his mother joke about the love his father had for that badge, and it had come. It had come and he had wept, but he had not known what to do then. He could not ride off to some unknown place, looking for something that he could not find. And so he threw himself into his duties, Knight Major of the Order, he had arrested Myles Mooton, had the man executed for treason, and had begun finding out where people’s loyalties lay. He was not going to allow the order to rot.

The king had asked to meet with him in his private chambers, and as such Brandon stood there now, looking at the king, waiting for him to speak. Eventually the man does so, and Brandon notices just how much stronger the man’s voice is. “Tell me Knight Major, how goes the progress. Have you managed to root out the foulness within the order?”

Brandon nods. “I have sire, those members like Mooton who pledged themselves more to Prince Rhaegar than to yourself I have sent to them onward to their deaths. They shall not besmirch the order anymore. As for their recruits I have managed to persuade many of them to continue on in the order, on your side.”

The king smiles at this. “Good, very good. And what of the rest of the court, what is happening there? Are you to make them break before your iron will as well Knight Major?”

Brandon considers this and then responds. “Most of the court continue to demonstrate fervent loyalty toward you Sire, those who do not have either disappeared or have been caught and killed. Their heads adorn the spikes of the city.”

The king laughs then. “Good, you are as efficient as your father. We are truly sorry for your loss Knight Major. Lord Rickard was good man, an honourable one and a true one. Much more a friend to me than Tywin Lannister. Now tell us, what word have you had on that other matter.”

It takes Brandon a moment to think on what the king means but then it clicks. “The issue of those across the sea.” he pauses and then says. “I have had word from a reliable source that there are some within the riverlands who hold true to that cause, and yet they will not act. Not yet.”

“They are waiting to see how this little war turns out. The Blackfyres have always been very cautious, after the second rebellion ended it such grave defeat. It is not a surprise. And you have found out who their leaders are within the kingdom.” the king asks.

Brandon nods. “Lord Butterwell, taking the lead from his ancestor has been speaking quite fervently to some of the Riverlords, they remain fervently aloof from the war raging within the riverlands, as well as Lord Rowan within the Reach. It seems the man has forsaken his father’s alliance.”

The king seems to consider this then, his face contorting into a look of concentration, the beard has been trimmed, the nails cut, but the hair is still somewhat long. “Rowan, yes the man’s father died fighting for my father in the Stepstones, and the Rowans have long been the overlord of a house with Blackfyre sympathies, in fact, the Osgreys are related to Tywin through his grandmother, and it would not surprise me if the man is using Rhaegar as an excuse.”

The king looks at Brandon expectantly, and he replies. “It would seem that, that is not the case. From what I have been able to gather, there is little in the way of actual contact between Tywin Lannister and his cousins within Coldmoat and Standfast. It would seem Rowan has been swayed by the fighting within the riverlands, as well as his bannermen’s own proclivities to make the decision to lead the Blackfyre cause.”

“And what about the Blackfyre children? Have you figured out who Maelys was fighting for? The children’s names continue to elude me.” The king responds.

Brandon thinks on this and then responds. “I know the girl died some time ago, likely when King Jaehaerys was still alive Sire. As for the boy, it seems that he has remained alive and well throughout the years, and hid in plain sight here all these years.”

“Is it the eunuch?” The king asks. “I did always think he was far too observant within the capital to be anything else.”

Brandon shakes his head. “Alas no, it would seem that someone else is the Blackfyre boy.” Brandon pauses not sure how best to explain this and then he says. “I believe that Lucerys Velaryon is the Blackfyre boy Maelys was fighting for.”

The king does not look too surprised, but asks. “And what has led you to think this Knight Major?”

“There is no record of his parents, anywhere I look, and I found one thing that raised a question. Lord Daeron Velaryon died many years before Lord Lucerys was born, and his brother Aethon did not claim the lordship until two years after his brother died, and yet the Driftmark continued to be ruled as if there was a lord there. And when Aethon died Lucerys appeared, and yet there was no known record of him.” Brandon says.

The king looks at him for a long time and then asks. “Velaryon is on the Driftmark is he not?”

“Yes Sire.” Brandon replies.

“Send word there, tell him his king wants him to return, that there is some unfinished business we have. He will come, he still thinks me mad, and he will want to take advantage of that. Of course he will delay somewhat, but he will come.” the king says.

“Yes Sire.” Brandon replies, knowing better than to question the king.

There is a moment’s silence and then the king speaks once more. “And what of my son? What word has there been from Ser Gerold Hightower? Has the man found my brat of a son?”

Brandon hesitates for a moment and then responds. “Unfortunately there has not been any word from Ser Gerold Sire, though it does seem as though there has been some movement within the Reach. Forces are gathering within the reach, and it seems that Lord Tyrell has not been idle.”

The king considers this. “Tyrell, they were one of the houses that were spurned when my father and mother married. They were one of the houses my grandfather thought might well consider fighting for the Black dragon. And yet they have always remained loyal, perhaps that old harridan Olenna has kept her husband and son in line. Until now. Tell me Knight Major, at Harrenhal, who was Lord Mace conversing with?”

Brandon thinks back to the tourney, that damned tourney and he thinks on Tyrell and what happened there, to them all. “I think he was with his mother most of the time, as well as with Prince Rhaegar.”

The king nods. “My son has a habit of collecting fools and paupers for himself. He was never a warrior, and there were times when I wondered if perhaps he might have become something like what my uncle Daeron might have been, but then I discounted it. My son has borne the brunt of my anger with Tywin, and now, well now it seems he does mean to get his revenge.”

Brandon looks at the king curiously then. “You think he is definitely allied with Lord Tywin then sire? That he means to betray you?”

The king nods and sighs. “I think that my son has become that which Tywin hoped I would be. You see when we were growing up here, Tywin was a hero to me, and how could he not be? He who had stood up to his father and won praise and fear. He was everything I wanted to be, and then Joanna came.” Here the king gets a wistful look on his face. “Joanna, the girl who charmed the stranger and the warrior that was what they used to say. We both loved her, and yet she chose Tywin, and I married Rhaella, and that changed me.” The king’s face hardens then. “Rhaella, I did not love her, not like I loved Joanna, and yet she was my sister, she was my other half. We grew up when our grandfather went mad, and our father gave into madness. We fought together, lived together. She is me and I am her. And Tywin he did something to her, he wanted to be part of our family, and she would not let him. My brave, sweet Rhaella she broke Tywin Lannister long before Joanna did. And now, now he is getting his revenge.”

Brandon looks at the king, not sure just what the king is trying to say, but sensing that he knows. “Are you suggesting that whatever her grace Queen Rhaella did was enough to break Tywin Lannister, and make him want revenge in the most abhorrent way?”

“Not suggesting. I know Tywin, I know he is doing this, because of that.” the king responds. “Tywin never takes well to rejection. Never did, never will.”

“But why did Prince Rhaegar fall to his charms?” Brandon asks.

“Because I did not keep an eye on my son. I allowed him to become weak, I allowed him too much freedom. Tywin broke my relationship with my son long before I could form one. For he broke Rhaella, and I never had the chance to make amends with Rhaegar. I could not abandon my wife, never. I am not Tywin, I would never leave my wife. And that was where Tywin won, he broke my bond with my son. Broke it, and then mended it, by replacing me with himself. Tywin was the father Rhaegar never had.” the king says, there is so much sadness in the king’s voice that Brandon wants to comfort him, but he dares not move from where he is.

“What do you suggest we do then sire?” Brandon asks. “Do we move to make Tywin Lannister scramble? Do we make a move on his son?”

“No, leave Ser Jaime.” the king replies. “He is far too valuable to use in this manner. No, we shall allow Tywin to make his moves, and when the time comes we shall slaughter him and his followers.”

“And the prince?” Brandon asks.

The king’s face softens slightly, and then it hardens. His eyes narrow and he says. “Rhaegar is to be dealt with as if he is a traitor. I want an order put out that he is to be condemned, he is removed from the succession and Viserys is my heir.”

“I shall make sure the hand sees to it.” Brandon says, before remembering that Connington had died during that battle. Brandon looks at the king, then wondering if he has remembered that as well, it seems he has for he is looking at Brandon intently.

“Lord Connington is dead, Rhaegar’s lover is gone. And now my new hand stands before me. Tell me Knight Major, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Hand. Do you wish to make the announcement formal?” the king asks.

Brandon looks at the king surprised. “I…I am honoured Sire.”

“Good, you are to march north with the forces coming in, as well as with the order. Ride north with Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor. Ride forth and end this threat before it becomes too great. And make sure that Tywin dies a painful death.” the king says.

Brandon bows. “It shall be done Sire.”

 

 


	14. The Trident

**12 th Month of 282 A.C. The banks of the Trident**

**Eddard Stark**

The battle echoed in his mind, when he slept he dreamt of it, when he woke it was there burned into his eyes. It was an endless cycle, he dreamt and he woke, but bells kept chiming in his ears. He did not know why that was the case, but it happened, it continued to happen and it increasingly frustrated him, he did not know what to do about it, and he was not sure if he could do something about it. Robert did not seem to be as affected by it as Ned was, Robert seemed to revel in it, almost as if this was something he was born to do. Ned found himself wondering, not for the first time how it was that he was friends with a man such as Robert, there seemed to no explanation for it, no reason for why they were friends or why they were fighting together, when really they should be enemies. And then it came back to him, Lyanna, she was at the root of all of this, whether she had fled with Rhaegar or been kidnapped, Ned did not know, but she was the thing keeping them together. The thing holding their alliance together and Ned did not know if he could stomach it going.

Robert spoke then. “We have waited for long enough, where in the seven hells are they? You would think the dragons have gone cowardly on us.”

Ned thinking of the black hound, says. “I do not think that is a fair assumption to make Robert. They took a severe beating during the fight at the Stoney Sept no doubt they are recruiting more men.”

Robert laughs at this. “They are cowering, their prince has not shown his face, and now they will fall before us. Admit it Ned, we are winning this war, and there is nothing those fools could do about it.”

Ned looks at his friend and not for the first time during this war wonders at his friendship with Robert. “I do not know Robert, I think there is something going on there, within their camp. Something that suggests there is more happening than might meet the eye.”

His friend sighs then. “Not this again Ned. For the love of the maiden. How many times will you bring up this damned thing of suspicion?”

“As many times as it takes, there is no coincidence that during the fighting at the Stoney Sept I saw the black hound. I have not seen that thing in years.” Ned responds.

Robert looks at him, and says coldly. “Brandon is dead Ned. I know that is painful to hear, but he is dead and there is nothing that can be done about that. Stop trying to cling onto something that is not there.”

Ned feels anger grow within him at that, he feels a retort on the tip of his tongue, but stops himself from saying that. Instead Jon, as has so often happened during the course of this war says. “We cannot be caught fighting one another now. We must remain united and strong. There are things that we must discuss.”

Ned looks at Lord Hoster, knowing his brother’s goodfather shares his suspicions, and sees that the man is looking at Jon Arryn through narrowed eyes. “Yes, we must discuss when we shall ride out to battle.”

Ned is about to ask what the man means by that, when he sees a man enter the tent and say aloud. “My lords, word has come, it seems the Targaryen army is marching toward us.”

“And now they come forth to face the hammer once more.” Robert booms sounding delighted. “Excellent.”

 _Ned, remember, remember me…._ The voice comes into his head once more, sounding like Brandon, but Brandon is dead. Ned tries to shake that off, but it remains there insistent. _Do not ignore me Ned, you know that there are things about this that do not seem real. You have seen me, now why do you ignore me?_ The voice asks, and Ned wants to retort but he knows that doing so would only lead to suspicion and so instead he pushes the voice down and focuses on the conversation before him. “We must form into rows, a supreme commander and then sub commanders.” Jon says.

“I will be the main commander.” Robert booms instantly. “I shall face the whoreson commanding this army, and will make sure he falls to his death.”

Ned sees Lord Hoster staring at Robert, and he wonders not for the first time, what exactly is going on inside the man’s head. “Alright then,” Jon says. “Lord Hoster you are okay with commanding the centre?”

Lord Hoster nods. “Yes.”

“Good, and Ned you are okay with commanding the right?” Jon asks him.

“Yes.” Ned replies.

“Good then it is settled. Let us prepare ourselves for this fight and prepare well.” Jon says.

They leave the tent, and Ned walks toward his own tent his thoughts laden with heavy thoughts. Lord Hoster comes to him then and whispers. “I am afraid Eddard, I am deeply afraid.”

Ned looks at the man and asks. “Why? Is it because of Robert? You need not fear, he knows what he is doing in the heat of battle.”

“No, I am afraid because the black hound was seen during the battle at the Stoney Sept.” Lord Hoster replies.

“You saw that as well?” Ned exclaims.

“Yes. The last time I saw that was when your father and I fought at the stepstones, and your father is most definitely dead.” Lord Hoster replies.

“What could it mean?” Ned asks.

“I am not sure, but we must be careful, terribly careful.” the man replies before he walks off.

During the time it takes him to armour up and prepare for the battle, Ned’s thoughts are plagued by the stories he had heard about the legend of the black hound, and its relation to his family. The stories are dark and terrifying, but he knows one thing, they have never harmed one of their own. Though, is he one of them? He does not know, not anymore. These doubts are resting inside his head as he mounts his horse, nods at his guard and rides to the sound of feet on the ground. The thoughts that had plagued him from the time he was a boy in the Vale. The fear that he would never be as good as his brothers, even Benjen was more of a Northman than he was. Somethings never left you, even as you grew older, his father had said that once. And how true he had been.

Mounted on his horse, Ned leads the army, his part of it anyway toward the bank of the trident, the crossing as it were. And there they stop and wait, Ned sees the other parts of the army doing the same, Ned wonders at this. Wonders if something has been preordained, he does not believe in such things, but a bit of belief never hurt anyone, especially at times such as these. Eventually, his patience turns into surprise when he sees a figure break out from the army coming toward them across the crossing, flying the three headed dragon banner of House Targaryen as well as another banner, a banner he recognises and at the same does not. A dragon flying proudly, its claws around a sword. He sees the riders coming toward them, seven riders, and the riders come to a stop. “We come to speak with the commanders of the rebel army.” the leader says, Ned feels a chill go down his back when hears that voice. He knows that voice.

Ned looks at his guards through the eyes of his helm, and then spurs his horse onward, just as Robert, Hoster and Jon are doing so as well. They come to a stop before the crossing of the trident. “What do you want?” Robert snarls.

“I want to see who it is that is rebelling against their rightful king.” the man replies, in such an arrogant tone that Ned can only think of one person.

“And why should we do that, for a man who fights for a rapist and a mad man?” Robert snarls back.

The man laughs, and says. “Oh, I should know this foolishness anywhere. Fine, I shall show you my good intentions.” The man signals and his men remove their helms at the same time that he does.

Ned gasps then, he hears them all do the same, as he looks at the man before him, with long brown hair and long face, the handsome man before him, his older brother. “Brandon.” he whispers.

He looks at the man’s companions and feels as if the wind has been knocked from him. Ethan Glover, Kyle Royce, Elbert Arryn and the last man he does not know. All of them, thought dead, are now alive. He looks at them and then asks. “How?”

His brother fixes his gaze on him and responds. “Remove your helms and I shall tell you how.”

Ned finds himself doing just that without thinking, seeing his brother’s own expression of surprise at seeing him. The expression widens comically then when he sees Robert. His expression hardens when he sees Jon Arryn. “What are you doing alive Stark? We thought you dead. Or have you turned traitor?” Robert snarls.

Ned wants to hit Robert, but as he looks at his brother, he wonders. “I have not turned traitor. Though it would seem you all have turned traitor. Tell me, why are you fighting the king?”

“His son kidnapped Lyanna, and he killed you and Lord Rickard. At least that was what we had been told, but now it seems that was a lie.” Robert responds.

“Pycelle.” Brandon whispers, and then he says aloud. “You have been gravely misinformed about many things my lords.” his brother pauses and then goes on. “My father, Lord Rickard is dead, killed somewhere within the riverlands, by men loyal to Prince Rhaegar.” At this he looks pointedly at Lord Hoster who merely nods, dumbstruck. “King Aerys had been poisoned and driven mad by Pycelle the Grand Maester on the orders of Lord Tywin and Prince Rhaegar. They were attempting to remove the king from the throne, to place Rhaegar on the throne. Of course, various things that I have done, alongside my friends here has made sure that did not come to pass. And yet, much has happened, and now I must ask you to put down your weapons.”

Jon laughs then. “So you wish for us to believe that this has all been some misunderstanding, and to put down our weapons? What of justice?”

Ned looks at his brother, and sees the stubborn jut of his jaw, and he knows, he just knows what is coming next. “The king is not in the wrong here, the king is as much a victim as all of us are. Put down your weapons and come with me to King’s Landing, and this can all be solved.”

“Why? What will Aerys give us, he is mad. Mad men do not make reasonable decisions. Despite what he might have told you Brandon.” Robert responds. “Then again you always were a fool weren’t you?”

Ned groans then, and his brother snarls. “You are a fool Baratheon. Put down your weapon now, and I will not have to kill you.”

Ned closes his eyes then, frustration growing within him. “Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?” Robert roars.

“Will you bend the knee to King Aerys?” Brandon asks, his voice cold.

“Never.” Robert booms.

“What of the rest of you?” Brandon asks, looking right at Ned.

Before Ned can reply, Robert says. “Single combat right now. Let us deal with this problem right now. I kill you, we shall destroy your army and march for King’s Landing, you kill me, then they can bend the knee.”

A protestation is forming, but it dies on his lips when Brandon replies. “Very well then. Let us do this now.”

Ned knows what is going to happen before it does, he knows, has known from the time he saw the black hound coming before them. His brother fights with skill, Robert with anger. Anger might have carried the day at the Stoney Sept, but it cannot carry the day here, and Brandon, Brandon has always been good at fighting. Robert dies, and Ned cries inside, but he sighs when Brandon removes his sword and Robert falls down his body gone, and crumpled. Leaving behind ash. 


	15. War Monger

**3 rd Month of 283 A.C. Riverlands**

**Prince Rhaegar Targaryen**

There were times when Rhaegar wondered what had possessed him to take the Stark girl, there were some things that did not make sense. Lyanna had been filled with fire when he had met her at Harrenhal, and she had pleaded with him to aid her, and yet he had not wanted to do so. He had told her he would not break from the ground for anything, and then he had taken her. It was as if he had been in a trance, as if he had not be acting within his own mind, and then he had come to, and she and he had been married, somehow and yet there was no child. The child of ice and fire was not coming forth from their union that had worried him. But there were more important things to worry about and they were coming forth now. He had ridden out from the tower with Arthur, and met with a host commanded by Lord Tywin, the man who was to be his goodfather soon enough, and this was where they were now preparing for war.

Rhaegar looks at the lords gathered in the command tent, they have a large host, Tyrell had delivered on his promise and now Rhaegar meant to take what was his. “What word has there been from the trident? What became of the rebels and my father’s forces?”

Lord Tywin cold and immovable as always takes a moment to speak. “It seems that Brandon Stark survived his little ordeal within King’s Landing and emerged as hand of the king, for King Aerys. As such he commanded the royal host that met the rebel host at the trident. There was much discussion it seems, that ended with Robert Baratheon’s death.”

Rhaegar feels somewhat shaken by this, he had thought Stark would be dead by now, clearly his survival is something that must be thought of now. “And how have the rebels dealt with this?”

Lord Tywin speaks once more. “Jon Arryn has begun protesting most fervently, but Stark’s brother as well as Lord Hoster have gone over to Brandon Stark and Aerys’ side. Therefore they are allied together and are waiting for the order to march out.”

Rhaegar considers this. “This is a problem is it not? There was no fighting between the knight major’s host and the rebel host was there?”

“No, there was not sire.” Lord Tywin replies.

Rhaegar feels something akin to panic grow within him then. Even with their increased host, they might not have enough strength and force to deal with the new army that is waiting for them. Looking at Lord Tarly, Rhaegar asks. “Do you think we can defeat these rebels?”

Lord Tywin looks somewhat angry that he has not been asked, however, Tarly is someone whom Rhaegar knows he can rely on to give an unbiased account of their military strength. After some time the man speaks. “I think there is a high chance that we can win this battle sire. The rebels are seated below a hill, and though they might have more experience with regards to fighting, sheer numbers could well overwhelm them.”

Ser Kevan speaks then. “And there is also the risk that they might form into spear formation, and that in itself could lead to us being hampered. The Dornish have remained neutral thus far, and therefore we are limited in our own spear formations.”

Elia, gods, he wonders what life has been like for her under his father, whether or not she has suffered or if she has thrived. He does not know. Lord Tarly speaks then. “The Dornish are not needed for this battle Sire. They would only serve to be a hindrance, they would not fight with a clear mode of intention and would instead try and do what they always do.”

“And what is that my lord?” Rhaegar asks intrigued.

“They would try to separate into different formations and then try to fall on the enemy. Of course with Princess Elia a hostage within King’s Landing, who knows what role of form that might take. For all we know, we could become their enemies.” Tarly responds.

Rhaegar considers this. “How many men do the rebels have?”

“Some fifty thousand men if our estimates are correct sire.” Lord Tyrell says, his voice barely hiding his excitement at being included in this war council.

Rhaegar wonders why he decided to include Tyrell in his war plans, and then he remembers. There is something about Tyrell that makes him feel more confident in his own decisions and person. It is almost as if his own deficiencies are removed when Tyrell is present. Looking at the man then he says. “Lord Tyrell, tell me, how do you feel about commanding the vanguard?”

He can see the shock on some of the lords’ faces, and there is something akin to approval on Lord Tywin’s face, something that makes Rhaegar feel pride grow within him. “I would be most honoured Sire.”

“Good, twenty thousand men shall be under your command, and this time, I want the rebels destroyed. If you find Brandon Stark have him killed, I want his brother brought before me though.” Rhaegar says. He remembers Lyanna saying she was closest to this brother, though he cannot understand, considering they had rarely seen one another.

“What of Lord Arryn Sire?” Lord Tarly asks. “Could he not be somewhat of a liability, considering what he knows of the plans your royal person has made?”

Rhaegar considers this and then looking at Lord Tywin for guidance says. “Arryn shall not feature heavily within the rebels plans. If what we know is right, he shall be keeping himself to the rear, prepared to launch a rearguard assault should the rebels look to be winning.”

Another moment’s silence and then Lord Tywin speaks. “Very well Sire. Is there aught more that you wish to discuss?”

Rhaegar looks at the man and then smiles. “Not at this point in time my lord. That is all.”

The meeting ends, and Rhaegar leaves the tent first, accompanied by Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell disappeared not long after they arrived within the Tower, a moment Rhaegar still cannot remember. He gets changed into his armour, his nerves are beginning to grow, he knows that this will be his first taste of actual battle, there are things that might happen during this battle, it was supposed to be Robert Baratheon he faced, his dreams said as much. And yet not for the first time, his dreams have been proven false, he finds himself wondering at all of that now. Was it all some sort of illusion then, something that came about in his desperate desire to prove himself worthy? Worthy, to who though? His father or Lord Tywin? That has been the question that has plagued him his entire life, does he have the chance to prove himself to both and keep them both alive? He doubts it, he knows his father must die for him to succeed to the throne, the thought haunts him. He knows what must happen after this, Elia must fall, and Dorne will have to be conquered anew. It terrifies him.

His armour is black, black as night, with rubies glimmering within it. Similar to the Conqueror’s armour, similar to Aenar the Exile’s armour. He knows it is presumptuous of him, but he knows that unless his men have something to rally around they will falter and this will end badly. He cannot allow that to happen, he has seen what will happen if he dies, has seen it in his dreams, and he knows that is not a good future. He shakes his head then, Robert Baratheon is dead, and his father would not dare dream of having him killed, not unless he wanted the title of Kinslayer, though Stark, Stark might act. Gods, the worry he feels now is only growing, more and more, it is consuming him, he feels something akin to relief when he hears the horn sound that signals the beginning of the Tyrell march. Arthur stands guard beside him, his friend through all of this, his lover as well. Gods there is much and more that he is not sure of, but at least Arthur is still there by his side. He does not know what he would do without Arthur.

The fear of not having Arthur makes him look at his friend then, to make sure that his friend is still there, solid at his side. Reassured, Rhaegar focuses on the movements of the vanguard. Twenty thousand men charging at the rebel host there, before them. Rhaegar feels the ground rumble, feels it hammer at his heart, knows that somewhere deep inside that there will be something at the end of all of this that will either confirm or deny what he has known all along. The moments pass by slowly, very slowly, his frustration grows, it is deepening, he is not sure what to make of it, but it is growing. The sounds of the battle are distant, but they are there, they are there and they are growing. Slowly but surely, he sees the fight, another horn sounds and the left under Lord Randyll goes charging into the fighting. Rhaegar commands the right, and slowly but surely he begins moving toward the centre. A deep breath, he draws his sword and spurs his horse onward.

Battle, this is his first battle, a strange thought, had he not done what he had, it is likely that there would never have been a battle, another taste of peace. But people scheme during peace, Rhaegar has learned that, for he did it himself. He did it before Duskendale, when his father was still sane, but his mother, he feels as if he will be cursed to the seven hells for all he has put his mother through. She cared for him, loved him, when his father was gone somewhere else. Rhaegar sighs then, he despises himself for the many things he has done, but they have been needed, they had to happen, otherwise there would be nothing but hell to pay. And that is something that could not be allowed, most definitely could not be allowed. Struggling through certain things, Rhaegar clears his mind and then moves forward, determined to make a good impression during his first battle. His horse races across the ground, and he himself, well he feels alive. More alive than he has done in a long time. The horse matches his heart beat.

The battle is fast and furious, more than anything he has ever faced before, his sword is there being wielded by someone, is that him who is wielding the sword, or someone else? He does not know, but the thought is somewhat intoxicating, and so he swings his sword, and he moves like a man bred for battle. He swings his sword, and feels bone crunch beneath it, his own body takes its fair share of blows and harm. And yet, on he goes, Arthur at his side, he feels alive, so very alive, and more alive than he has ever felt making love or doing anything else. He dreams of a throne, a thing that might well make it all worthwhile, he dreams of a girl with golden hair, the woman he has to marry to save Westeros. He thinks of the wolf maid who took him prisoner within her mind, and with her charms. Pain accompanies that image, why is it that they are all thinking him a bad man? Why do they never think Lyanna might have taken him, herself? She has teeth the wolf maid, and she is not afraid to use them. He feels his mind falter then, turning into something else. His mind, falters, and a black hound appears, and then it seems as though it is all faltering. Blood comes, and the world turns upside down. 


	16. Order Of The Dragon

**4th Month of 283 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Aerys II Targaryen**

His son was dead, slain during the fighting within the Riverlands. Aerys knew there was some part of him that was deeply saddened by his son’s death, he still remembered the little boy that his son had bee. How his son had come before him to ask about the world, and how he had tried to answer. Aerys knew he had not been the best father, and that his son had felt the need to rebel, well, Aerys knew he would be haunted by that fact for the rest of his life. He had sworn once before never to abandon his wife, and now, well now, through his grief and his anger, he had sworn that he would never abandon his family. Viserys was his heir and he would raise the boy, his son, his heir, as befitting a dragon. Aerys could feel the pain threatening to overwhelm him, and he tries to fight it down, Rhaella takes his hand then, and he is so grateful for her, knowing all that he has done, knowing what has happened before. He looks before the court, and he knows what he must say.

Clearing his throat, Aerys looks at the court and says. “We, have come before you and summoned this meeting of the court, to present judgement. Men have committed deep seated treason. They have allowed their own desires to come before that of the realm. My son Prince Rhaegar died because of men like them, my cousin Lord Robert died because of that. I will not allow them to continue their path of destruction. It ends today.” he pauses and then looks at his hand. “Bring them in.” he says. The man bows and goes toward the herald, who announces their names, the final battle had been destructive. Tyrell was dead, Tarly was dead, and most of their men were slaughtered, the order proving once more why it was the most effective fighting force within the kingdoms. Tywin had been taken prisoner, as had Jon Arryn. Ser Gerold had died, trying find Rhaegar, and Ser Arthur had died as well. So much death, for Tywin’s naked ambitions. The men are dropped before the throne, and he looks at them with scorn. “You have been brought here to answer for the crime of treason against the crown. You have all committed some act befitting the punishment of death. So tell me, why should this not happen?” There is a long silence, and then when he cannot stand it any longer, Aerys looks at Tywin and snaps. “Do you have nothing to say? I expected things better of you Tywin. What did I do to make you hate me so?”

Silence that is what fills the court room, Aerys knows he could have Tywin killed there and then for remaining silent before the order of his king, but he waits. He knows that eventually Tywin will speak, the man cannot remain silent for long. He is proven right when the man speaks his voice low. “You were supposed to be my brother, and you betrayed me. You betrayed me when you named a savage Knight Major of the Order, you betrayed me when you made a move on Joanna. You betrayed me when you refused the offer of my daughter for your son. And you betrayed me when you named Jaime to the Kingsguard.”

Aerys looks at the man before him, the man who he had considered a brother in all but name for so long. He looks at him, and he feels nothing but contempt for this man. “You talk of betrayals, but what of all the times you betrayed me? I know of your involvement in Summerhall. I know of your advances on my wife. I know of the things you did to undermine me before Duskendale and even after Duskendale. You turned my own son against me. And why? Why did you do that?” Rhaella is holding his hand tightly now, and he knows there is a growing sense of anger within him.

Tywin looks at him, his face for once showing some sort of expression. “You were turning me into something you knew I did not want to be. I told you so many times that I could be of more use to you, than you were making. I knew you would never listen to me, and so I went to your son. He was more my son, than he was yours. And you know it. You always felt as if he was not yours.”

An old doubt begins creeping into his head then, but he crushes it. Anger making him respond. “You speak treason with every word my lord. Now, tell me, why should I not have you killed? It is a far kinder fate than what you deserve.”

The man looks at him and says. “Because you cannot hold the Westerlands without me. Kevan is dead, and my other brothers are not trusted. Without me the West will burn.”

Aerys laughs then. “And what of your son, the dwarf? He is your son. He is young yet, he will be raised at court alongside Viserys, and he will come to know his place in the world. You have failed to convince me Tywin. I wonder what Joanna would say? Would she be happy at the man you became, or distraught at your foolishness. I suppose you can ask her.” Aerys pauses then savouring the look of pure fear on his old friend’s face. Turning to his hand he says. “Bring me his head.” He watches as in one smooth motion Brandon Stark removes Tywin’s head from his body. As the blood drips to the floor, Aerys barks. “Put it on a spike atop the walls.” Stark nods and gives the command. Aerys then turns his attention to Jon Arryn, and this time his anger and hatred grows, it grows and grows. He thinks of Vaella, dead in the Vale, he thinks of Maegor dead in Essos, he thinks of all the deaths, and he snarls. “You.”

Jon Arryn, a man he has come to hate above all others, a man whom he wants to merely remove from the face of Westeros. The man shakes and quivers as he stands. “Sire, please, I can explain.”

“Explain?” Aerys snarls in response. “What will you explain? How you hunted down and butchered my great aunt? How you had my cousin killed? How you have done all in your power to see my family brought low and destroyed. And why? Because of a fear that we might yet claim the Vale. Well now I shall tell you, you have done a great wrong. Your line ends here. Elbert Arryn shall claim the Vale, and shall marry your wife. You, you are a dead man.” Aerys looks at the man, sees him shake, he then looks through the crowd to where his hand’s brother is standing, he sees fear there, but nothing else. Grinning, Aerys says loudly. “None do protest this sentence. You are done for Arryn.” he pauses and then says. “Drink from the cup, drink the water that will give you peace.”

Aerys watches as Stark hands Arryn the cup, he knows what is within the cup, knows that it was Arryn’s father who gave this cup to Aerys own great uncle many years ago, and he knows that Arryn will suffer. He is proven correct as Arryn drinks and drinks and then dies screaming, his body engulfed in flames. As Arryn’s ashes fall on the ground, Aerys looks at the crowd then and says. “Let this be a lesson to those who plot. The beasts might be dead, but I am still a dragon, and fire is our weapon.”

There is a long moment’s silence following this, and eventually, Aerys remembers that there is one more person who must be dealt with in the list of traitors. “Bring for Lucerys Velaryon.” he says, his voice cold.

The man, a Blackfyre, Aerys can see it now, can see it in the way he holds himself, is dragged before the throne, Aerys stands up then, drawing forth a dagger, he walks down the throne, and spits at the man before slitting his throat in one fluid motion. As the man falls to the ground, Aerys looks at his hand and says. “Give the body to Rossart, let us see if this man was a true dragon.” the man nods and the suitable arrangements are made. Aerys remains standing at the foot of the throne for a moment, and then he turns and walks back up and sits on the throne. “Eddard Stark come forward.” The court which had come to life with his actions previously falls silent now as his hand’s younger brother walks forward, the man looks a little bit like his older brother, but somewhat lacking in some areas. The man gets down on one knee before the throne, and Aerys looks at him. “You fought for the rebels, the traitors, and you were led by a fool and an oaf. Why?”

Stark looks up at him then, and for a brief moment, it is as if Aerys is a little boy once more, meeting the famous Edwyle Stark. Their voices even sound the same. “I was wrong Sire. I was misled by one I considered a friend and a mentor. He lied to me and broke my trust in him. It was a mistake, and one I shall repent for, for the rest of my days.”

Aerys considers this for a long moment and then says. “You are not going to turn from the truth again are you Eddard? I would most hate to disappoint your brother.”

Stark looks surprised at this, and then he says. “Never Sire. I shall remain true till the day I die.”

Aerys thinks over this and then responds. “Very well then. You may rise.” The man does so and Aerys waves a hand dismissing him. When the man turns and leaves, Aerys sags down in the throne, Rhaella holds his hand still, and he is grateful for her. “That is all, you may all leave now.” he says. And the court disperses. Aerys remains sitting on the throne, his wife holding his hand, he turns to her and asks. “Did I do well Rhaella?”

His wife looks at him and nods. “You did marvellously Aerys. Grandfather would have been proud.”

Aerys looks at his wife and asks. “You think so?”

“Most definitely.” his wife replies.

Aerys nods, and then says. “Well then, come let us go.” he stands and walks with her down the steps of the iron throne, where his hand is waiting for him. “What do you wish to speak of now Stark?”

“I only wished to thank you for doing what you did sire. For pardoning my brother.” his hand says.

Aerys looks at the man and responds. “We were merely doing what we thought was right. Your brother had admitted he was wrong, and had repented. There was nothing more to it.” he pauses and then asks. “Now how is your wife doing? She has given birth to a son has she not?”

His hand looks surprised at this turn of events. “Yes Sire she is very well, thank you sire. And yes, she has given birth to a beautiful boy. He looks just like me Sire. So I have been told.”

“And this child’s name?” Aerys asks.

His hand hesitates a moment and then says. “Jon Sire, for King Jon Stark.”

Aerys remembers the words said long ago in the fires of Summerhall, of a child whose name would bear the name of a king. He merely nods. “A strong name. We should meet your wife and child soon.”

“Yes, of course Sire, it would be our honour sire.” his hand replies.

Aerys nods and then walks past his hand, with his wife in tow. As they walk out of the room, his wife whispers. “Do you think that could be what she was on about?”

“Perhaps.” Aerys replies.

“Do you think we should keep an eye on them?” Rhaella asks.

“Well, why do you think I allowed the girl to remain with her brother, and why do you think I named Brandon Stark my hand. I intend to keep a complete eye on them forevermore.” Aerys responds. 


End file.
